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MIi1himSiV«?.,!?' Peitibrokes Arcadia; 

3 1924 013 123 330 

Cornell University 

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tlie Cornell University Library. 

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New York : E. P. Dutton & Co. 

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II 121 

III 299 

IV 523 

V 577 

VI (by R. B.) 631 


In a broad survey of the early history of English prose fiction 
three periods mark themselves out with great distinctness. 
The later centuries of the middle ages were the age of 
romance, when both poet and proseman worked upon the 
same mass of legendary material, expanding and embellishing 
the current stories in precisely the same spirit, the difference 
between prose romance and metrical romance being simply 
one of mechanical form. When in the EUzabethan age the 
literature of tradition gave way to the literature of invention, 
a decisive step in advance was made; but the novel still 
retained all the essential features of its poetic ancestry. Then, 
with the invention of a genuine prose, in the succeeding epoch, 
came a revolution. Discarding the romantic spirit, as their 
predecessors had abandoned the romantic legends, the first 
modern novelists turned themselves to the portrayal and inter- 
pretation of actual life, and the history of realism began. Sir 
Philip Sidney's Arcadia holds an important place in these three 
stages of gradual evolution, as the type and culmination of the 
middle period, the age of poetic invention ; how important in 
the long history of the genesis, the successive transformations, 
and the final development of English fiction, can be realised 
only by going back right to the beginnings, when the earliest 
prose romances took their rise from the chansons de gestes. 

In the exordium of his Apologie for Foetrie, Sidney himself 
lays stress on the priority of the poet in the history of literature. 
Modern research has found that this rule holds good in the 
literatures of many more races than Sidney was able to adduce 
as examples. From free imagination to realism, from 
mythology to science, from sensuous and passionate rhythms 
to cold, abstract prose — this is the natural line of progression. 
And the same course of development is repeated in the 
evolution of the various literary species. The first Hellenic 


philosophers wrote in hexameters; history began with epos, 
and went through the semi-poetic phase of Herodotus before 
it emerged in the form of abstract prose and the generalising 
method of science with Thucydides. Scientific and technical 
literature had its birth in poetry and mythology; and even 
when it became practical and experimental maintained for a 
while the fashions of poetry, and sought the inspiration of the 
muse. In the same way, the novel, whose evolution seems 
to have culminated in unpoetic days, must have its origins 
sought in far-off times when authors wrote instinctively in 

Narrative or dramatic poetry and the novel must always of 
course be very nearly related together. A poem and a novel, 
it might be said, are but two different sorts of fiction. But 
to make this statement literally true, the word fiction would 
have to be interpreted in two different senses. For the 
difference between poetry and prose is not simply one of 
style, but lies in the circumstance that the imagination of the 
poet, inspired with emotion and ideality, appeals directly to 
imagination, whilst prose addresses the understanding. The 
poet merely asks us to imagine ; but the prose-writer has to 
reason and convince. Writers of such prose fiction as the 
Elizabethan novels, and the Greek and Latin novels that arose 
in the decadence of classical literature, did not realise that the 
mind of the reader is reached in essentially different ways by 
prose and poetry; that in the one case the imagination is 
working on a higher plane, and responding to another kind of 
stimulus. Both accordingly produced something that was really 
neither prose nor poetry, and both had slight influence on the 
subsequent development of the novel. It will be worth while 
a little later to compare the Elizabethan novel with this curious 
product of an earlier age of culture and decadence. For the 
novel of Sidney, Lyly, Lodge, and Greene, though it belongs to 
the Elizabethan era in time, was not a native growth of that 
age of great beginnings, but rather a final and unproductive 
efflorescence of the romantic literature that had its roots in 
times already ancient. Sidney the critic and interpreter of 
letters looked back, not forward. He did not discern the 
signs around him of the tremendous birth that was com- 
mencing, but would have been proud to be compared with 


Heliodorus and Longus,"and with Sanazzaro and Morttemayor, 
whom he acclaims as genuine poets, preaching with seductive 
eloquence throughout his Apologie the fallacious doctrine that 
poetry is the name for all imaginative literature. 

The first English examples of fiction in prose were stories 
from the great chivalric cycles of Arthur, of Charlemagne, and 
of Troy and Alexander. Some of these were written in prose 
originally, but the majority were translations, paraphrases, or 
recensions of metrical narratives. Some were turned into verse 
again, and again in that form were the material for further 
prose recensions. And throughout these transformations the 
matter, the style, and the spirit of the stories underwent hardly 
any change. It was only now and then that the versifier gave 
a rein to imagination in his battles and pageants; or was 
hurried by the swing of the metre into bursts of lyricism, or 
a more dramatic curtness in the dialogue; or cut short the 
explication of motive and plot, which the prose-writer was 
inclined to elaborate. How well the prose sufficed to the 
minstrel converting it into his own idiom may be seen by 
comparing such a metrical romance as the Scots poem, 
Lancelot of the Laik, with the samples of the French prose 
story from which it was translated, in the edition by the Early 
English Text Society. There is very little poetical heightening 
except where the minstrel tacks on a prologue of his own 
composing; the rest is but the effect of the paraphraser's 
occasional impulse to change and invent.^ Certainly these 

^ The French prose says simply that King Arthur was at Carlisle : the 
poem takes twenty verses to tell how "When Titan with his lusty heat 
had made his court for twenty days in Aries, and all with divers hues 
had apparelled the fields and branches ... in this time the worthy 
conqueror, Arthur, who had the flower of all the chivalry of this world 
pertaining to his crown, so passing were his knightes in renown, was at 
Carlisle, etc. " Then the prose records that the king went one morning 
early into the woods to hunt. This the verse expands into ten lines 
describing the hunt. In another place the French says, " Et quant il fut 
entre en la bataille il fist sonner ses busines tant que tout en retentissoit." 
This the Scots turns into, 

" Up goith the trumpetis, and the claryownis, 
Hornys, bugillis blawing furth thar sownis, 
That al the cuntre resownit hath about ; 
Than Arthuris folk var in dispar and dout, 
That hard the noys, and saw the multitud, 
Of fresch folk ; thai cam as thai war wod." 

The Black Knight says, " Seigneurs, vous estes tous amys du roy. Or y 


writers were not embarrassed by any preconceptions of a strict 
boundary line between prose and the language of poetry, and 
the uses for which either was especially ordained. The 
traditional themes were handled, in both verse and prose, in 
the same traditional manner, and were animated by the same 
spirit of romantic adventure. 

A change of style is almost invariably the result of a change 
of thought and feeling; but no profound mental and moral 
revolution like that which underlay the romantic movement of 
the nineteenth century, was the occasion for turning the 
mediaeval romances into prose. When all Uterary compositions 
were intended for singing and recitation, they naturally took 
a metrical form ; but when books were meant to be read in 
bower and cloister, it was left to the writer to choose his 
vehicle. Thus, while there were true poets like Chrestien de 
Troyes and Wolfram von Eschenbach among those working 
upon the material of legend, many arrayed themselves in the 
poetic vesture without having a spark of divine fire ; and the 
style of many of these metrical narratives strikes one as too 
prosaic for the subject, especially if we base our expectations 
on Malory, to us the chief exemplar of mediaeval romance, 
whose prose, though not in the least resembling in structure 
that bastard thing, prose poetry, is thoroughly epical in its 
stark simplicity, its sensuous colour, and the haunting sugges- 
tion of beauty and ideality. It was not an age of poetry in 
the way this can be said of the early period of Greek literature, 
when philosophers, historians, and lawgivers spoke in metre 
because the muse was in them. Romance is the decadence 
of poetry ; and while the traditional forms survived, the poetic 
impulse grew weaker and weaker. 

erra comment vous le ferez." This is the sole foundation for thirty-one 
lines in the Scots poem, including a response from his followers that is 
not in the prose. The Scot uses his material freely, translating faithfully 
when a mere pedestrian course was sufficient, letting himself go when his 
imagination was aroused. He is more vivid and circumstantial in narrative, 
fuller and more sensuous in description. Take the following ; French, 
" Et fut a leur venue le chevalier noir mis a terre ; Et aussi les six com- 
paignons qui toute jour avoyent este pres°de luy ; " Scots, 

' ' The blak knycht is born on to the ground, 
His horse hyme fallith, that fellith dethis wound. 
The vi falowis, that falowith hyme al day, 
Sich was the press, that to the erth go thay.'' 

A good deal of this expansion is obviously occasioned by the demands 
of metre and rhyme. 


By Caxton and his successors the prose romances of the 
age of chivalry were multipUed and circulated among wider 
audiences than even those who listened to the mediaeval 
jongleur : these were the first popular novels of the Tudor 
age, yet they were already getting out of date, inasmuch as 
they reflected the manners and the ideals of a bygone period. 
But there had arisen on the continent two forms of romance 
that represent another stage in the development of fiction ; the 
Spanish chivalric romance typified in Amadis of Gaul, and the 
pastoral novel of Sanazzaro and Montemayor. The three 
great legendary cycles, no matter how wild and fabulous their 
later excursions, always claimed to be a reading of history; 
each writer was careful to state his authorities, real or fictitious ; 
and though he added life and circumstance to his narrative, 
the substance was put forward and accepted as history. In 
Spain romance had begun exactly as in Britain with poetic 
chronicles of heroic periods, such as the story of the Cid, 
round which gathered in the process of time a vast accretion 
of anonymous legend. But in the Amadis, printed in 1508, 
but current in oral or manuscript versions for two centuries at 
least, Spain gave birth to a kind of romance in which such 
history even as that in the legendary chronicles had no place. 
Amadis himself, it is true, was connected with the Arthuriad 
by his lineage ; but with this exception, the author or authors 
let both history and historical tradition go, and in the various 
knight-errantries of Amadis gave to their imaginative powers 
their full fling. In the beauty of its ladies, the size of its 
giants, the valour, constancy, and self-denial of its heroes, the 
Amadis eclipses all its rivals ; and in the Paltnerins and 
Esplandians that were the sequel, these exaggerations are 
carried to even more ridiculous lengths. The older romances 
had usually been localised in actual places and countries, 
though these were often idealised out of all likeness to reality ; 
but Amadis and his successors met with their adventures and 
performed their feats of arms in a region created by the fancy 
of their authors. Spenser's Fairy Land, and Sidney's Arcadia 
were no doubt suggested by this romantic geography. 

Pastoral romance had a classical origin, for the Eclogues of 
Baptista Mantuanus, pastoral dialogues satirising allegorically 
the social and moral vices of the fifteenth century in Italy 


were avowedly inspired by the bucolic poetry of his country- 
man Virgil. Longus also, one of the Greek novelists already 
alluded to, had in his Daphnis and Chloe depicted the life of 
pastoral simplicity. But if Petrarch, Boccaccio, and others 
whose works contained germs of the new movement are left 
out of account as of minor importance in this respect, it is 
accurate enough to say that the modern pastoral novel began 
its course with the Arcadia of Jacopo Sanazzaro, a Neapohtan 
whose aim it was to refresh the minds of his contemporaries, 
weary of a sophisticated and artificial life, with pictures of a 
simple existence in fields and woods, the felicities of truth and 
virtue, and the sentiment of a pure and refined love. Prose 
and verse are intermingled in his book, as they are in the only 
example of the style accessible to the modern reader in an 
English translation, the Galatea of Cervantes. Sanazzaro was 
surpassed in interest by his Portuguese imitator, Jorge de 
Montemayor, the author of Diana Enamorada, who added a 
pathos and a touch of real life to the pastoral, making a deeper 
appeal to the imagination of his readers, and securing such a 
popularity in England, that his novel was translated in 1583 
by Bartholomew Young. The pastoral novel and the Amadis 
cycle of romances were the two direct progenitors of Sidney's 
Arcadia, in which the spirit of knightly heroism and the 
idyllic atmosphere of a sentimental Utopia are blended in 
fairly equal parts. 

The pastoral, however, was only a digression in the slow 
advance of the English novel towards its goal; and though it 
furnished perhaps half the inspiration of Sidney's romance, it 
does not bear upon the present theme, the significance of the 
Elizabethan novel as represented by the Arcadia in the evolu- 
tion of English fiction. The pastoral romance, it should 
nevertheless be noted, is more closely allied to poetry than 
to prose fiction proper, not merely because it mingles verse 
with a flowery and emotional prose, but chiefly because it is an 
ofispring of the free imagination and not of the study of real 
life. The pastoral impulse has always been something 
factitious and retrograde in the history of literature and art 
something exactly contrary to the return to nature to which 
Wordsworth gave the strongest impetus, and which exercised 
such an enormous effect on the advance of realism. 


The Elizabethan novel, the general characteristics of which 
are roughly summed up in the words " poetic invention," came 
next to mediaeval romance in a natural order of succession. 
It did not bring fiction any nearer the type conditioned by 
the laws of expression in strict prose, of the eighteenth century 
pattern. In an age of poetry the novel had become more 
poetic in style and in attitude to life than it had ever been. 
The Arcadia and Euphues have less than the Morte d^ Arthur 
of the real world of men and women. A superficial view, 
accordingly, might suggest that with a hybrid and unfruitful 
type of art like the poetic novel one line of development came 
to an end, especially as we see that Defoe, in the next age, 
makes an entirely new beginning, abjuring romance and free 
imagination, turning directly to actual experience for his 
material, and using a homespun style, as close as he could 
make it to the speech of everyday life. Yet the semi-poetic 
novel represents a definite stage of transition, and it does 
contain elements that were to be developed later. The master- 
pieces of ItaUan story-tellers had made their mark upon the 
Elizabethans, who acquired the art of constructing a plot, and 
giving their narratives a beginning, a middle, and an ending. 
They showed also a more conscious effort to portray individual 
character ; and by Lyly the analysis of motive and feeling was 
carried to a point that seems to anticipate Richardson. More 
than this, they came a good step nearer to reality, although 
they failed so flagrantly to reproduce the atmosphere of. the 
real. They chose their subjects from the sphere of human 
experience; and they rejected giants, fairies, and witchcraft, 
together with the 

" Forests and enchantments drear, 
Where more is meant than meets the ear," 

which were stock features of the romantic literature ; although, 
on the other hand, they put wild improbabilites in the place 
of supernatural marvels, and revelled in coincidences and 
disguises almost as incredible as the Celtic magic of the 

Sidney the critic expounds in his Apologiefor Poetry his view 
that the novel of his time and of all anterior times, together 


indeed with all literature having an imaginative and idealistic 
tendency, was comprehended under his definition of poetry. 

" For Xenophon," says he, " who did imitate so excellently as to 
give us the portraiture of a just Empire under the name of Cyrus, 
made therein an absolute heroicall poem. So did Heliodorus in 
his sugared invention of that picture of love in Theagines and 
Cariclea. And yet both- writ in prose : which I speak to show, 
that it is not riming and versing that maketh a poet, no more 
than a long gowne maketh an Advocate." 

What his theory of poetry was may be gathered from his 
description of the poet, who, 

" disdayning to be tied to any such subjection (as the natural rules 
of things), lifted up with the vigor of his owne invention, dooth 
growe in effect another nature, in making things either better than 
Nature bringeth forth, or, quite anewe, formes such as never were 
in Nature, as the Heroes, Demigods, Cyclops, Chimeras, Furies, 
and such like ; so as hee goeth hand in hand with Nature, not 
inclosed within the narrow warrant of her gifts, but freely ranging 
onely within the Zodiack of his owne wit." " Nature never set the 
earth in so rich tapestry, as divers Poets have done, neither with so 
pleasant rivers, fruitful trees, sweet smelling flowers, nor whatsoever 
els may make the too much loved earth more lovely. Her world is 
brasen, the Poets only deliver a golden." 

This corresponds to Bacon's famous account of the nature 
of poetry, in the Advancement of Learning ; — 

".Poesy is a part of learning in measure of words for the most 
part restrained, but in all other points extremely licensed, and doth 
truly refer to the imagination ; which, not being tied to the laws of 
matter, may at pleasure join that which nature hath severed, and 
sever that which nature hath joined ; and so make unlawful matches 
and divorces of things ; Pictoribus atque poetis, etc. It is taken in 
two senses in respect of words and matter. In the first sense it is 
but a character of style, and belongeth to arts of speech, and is not 
pertinent for the present. In the latter it is (as hath been said) one 
of the principal parts of learning, and is nothing else but feigned 
history, which may be styled as well in prose as in verse. 

" The use of this feigned history hath been to give some shadow 
of satisfaction to the mind of man in those points wherein the nature 
of things doth deny it, the world being in proportion inferior to the 
soul ; by reason whereof there is, agreeable to the spirit of man, a 
more ample greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute 
variety, than can be found in the nature of things. Therefore 


because the acts or events of true history have not that magnitude 
which satisfielh the mind of man, poesy feigneth acts and events 
greater and more heroical. Because true history propoundeth the 
successes and issues of actions not so agreeable to the merits of 
virtue and vice, therefore poesy feigns them more just in retribution, 
and more according to revealed providence. Because true history 
representeth actions and events more ordinary and less inter- 
changed, therefore poesy endueth them with more rareness, and 
more unexpected and alternative variations. So as it appeareth 
that poesy serveth and conferreth to magnanimity, morality, and 
to delectation. And therefore it was ever thought to have some 
participation of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the 
mind, by submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind ; 
whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the nature of 
things. And we see that by these insinuations and congruities 
with man's nature and pleasure, joined also with the agreement and 
consort it hath with music, it hath had access and estimation in 
rude times and barbarous regions, where other learning stood 

These definitions are too broad for poetry, and too narrow 
for imaginative literature in general, though that is what they 
aimed to define. It was as difficult for Sidney and Bacon as 
for Aristotle to propound a theory embracing literary forms that 
were not yet invented ; and furthermore it is probable that had 
they witnessed the birth of naturalism in Defoe, or its ultimate 
developments in our own age, they would have denied to it the 
name of literature or art. But there is no place in such a 
definition for many works that neither Sidney nor Bacon would 
have hesitated to admit, the novels of George Eliot, for instance, 
or those of Fielding. Yet a modern explanation of poetry, that 
of Newman, would not exclude even such prose works as these. 
He says, 

" Moreover, by confining the attention to one series of events and 
scene of action, it bounds and finishes off the confused luxuriance 
of real nature ; while, by a skilful adjustment of circumstances, it 
brings into sight the connexion of cause and effect, completes the 
dependance of the parts one on another, and harmonises the pro- 
portions of the whole." 

A stricter analysis, however, demands of poetry not only a 
distinctive mode of conceiving its subject, but a distinctive 
mode of utterance. If poetry is the fine art of words, and 


its aim to give all the sensuous, emotional, and intellectual 
delight of which words are capable, it is clear that Sidney and 
Bacon gave full weight to only one side of the truth, and that 
they included far too much. The poetic novel, to which their 
definition applied so aptly, is a case in point, since it was a 
hybrid and transitional form, a thing that was just ceasing 
to be poetry, but had not yet become the new form of art 
to which it was the harbinger. 

The Arcadia, and the same may be said of the Elizabethan 
novel generally, shows its near relationship to poetry in both 
ways, in its style and in the purely imaginative nature of 
the story, the characters, and the life depicted. In the 
introduction to Defoe's Roxana and Moll Flanders, published 
in this series, I compared the opening of Defoe's stories, 
Robinson Crusoe, for instance, so definite as to time and 
place, so particular in the mention of names and the exact 
circumstances in which the events occur, with the beginning 
of the Arcadia, which carries us at once away in imagination 
to a flowery meadow in a land of Arcady that has no existence 
save in the fancy of the poets and those under their spell. 
There is no effort to make the story credible, or the characters 
real, by attaching them with the bands of verisimilitude to 
the world of familiar things. Musidorus and Pyrocles, 
Pamela and Philoclea, Zelmane and Amphialus, are in no 
way studies from life, but embodiments of Sidney's chivalrous 
energy and thirst for action, and of the craving for a life 
of pastoral simplicity and ideal love, strengthened by his 
enforced existence amidst the pomps and unrealities of a 
court. While he was living in retirement at Wilton, where 
the Arcadia was begun, he gave vent to this feeling in the 
following lines : — 

" Well was I while under shade 
Oaten reeds me music made, 
Striving with my mates in song ; 
Mixing mirth our songs among. 
Greater was the shepherd's treasure 
Than this false, fine, courtly pleasure." 

How strenuous in his nature was the heroic energy that gave 
the chivalric strain to his romance, was shown pre-eminently 
in the closing scenes of his life, when he roused his uncle 'I 


Leicester out of his sloth, and sacrificed himself on the 
field to a sense of knightly punctilio. It has been said of 
him that his whole life was " a true poem, a composition, and 
pattern of the best and honourablest things " ; and not only 
in his shepherd Philisides, but in all the idealisms of courage, 
knightly faith and honour, and self-denying affection, that 
illumine the pages of his Arcadia, and in their splendid deeds 
of valour and endurance, he poured . out the riches of his 
own nature, as the poet puts all that is best in himself into 
his verse. His purpose in writing the Arcadia, according to 
the testimony of his old schoolfellow at Shrewsbury, Fulke 
Greville, Lord Brooke, was moral and didactic; but "in all 
these creatures of his making his interest and scope was to 
turn the barren philosophic precepts into pregnant images 
of life,'' that is, to energize them with poetry. 

The prose naturally begotten of such a poetical conception 
of the novel is well illustrated in the following passage, 
one of those most charged with humanity and most free 
from extravagance. 

" But the headpiece was no sooner off but that there fell about 
the shoulders of the overcome knight the treasure of fair golden 
hair, which, with the face, soon known by the badge of excellency, 
witnessed that it was Parthenia, the unfortunately virtuous wife 
of Argalus ; her beauty then, even in despite of the past sorrow, 
or coming death, assuring all beholders that it was nothing short 
of perfection. For her exceeding fair eyes having with continual 
weeping gotten a little redness about them ; her roundly, sweetly- 
smelling lips a little trembling, as though they kissed her neighbour 
death ; in her cheeks, the whiteness striving, by little and little, 
to get upon the rosiness of them ; her neck — a neck indeed of 
alabaster — displaying the wound which with most dainty blood 
laboured to crown his own beauties ; so as here was a river 
of purest red, there an island of perfectest white, each giving 
lustre to the other, with the sweet countenance, God knows, 
full of an unaffected languishing ; though these things, to a 
grossly conceiving sense, might seem disgraces, yet indeed were 
they but apparelling beauty in a new fashion, which all looking 
upon through the spectacles of pity, did even increase the Hues 
of her natural fairness, so as Amphialus was astonished with 
grief, compassion, and shame, detesting his fortune that made 
him unfortunate in victory." 

In the Apologie for Poetry, Sidney condemned Euphuism, 



Lyly's new-fangled speech, which became fashionable in all 
cultivated circles immediately upon the publication of Euphues, 
or the Anatomie of Wit, in 1579; but his own affectations 
are equally alien from purity of style. Both were striving 
after a prose having a richness, a style of ornament, and an 
artistic structure, that would furnish some equivalent for the 
charms to ear and mind of metrical language. In this they 
were simply repeating the attempt of the late Greek and 
Latin novelists, whose style anticipated many of the mannerisms 
of Elizabethan prose, the false antithees, the word-jingles, the 
artificial cadences, and alliteration. Phrases like, " Sine pretio 
pretiosae," " Amores amare coerceas," " Atra atria Proserpinse," 
in the Golden Ass of Apuleius, are marvellously like the flowers 
of speech affected by Sidney and-Lyly. The scholiasts used 
to arrange the prose of this author in iambic measures, and 
would no doubt have applied similar tests to Sidney's. And 
the fondness for involved, musical periods, the love of 
sensuousness and splendour, are features common to both 
schools of writers. Here are two sentences from Apuleius 
showing precisely the same effort to maintain the glories 
of poetry, and the same cloying rhetoric that is the result 
in Sidney and his contemporaries : — 

" Mirus prorsus homo, immo semideus, vel certe Deus, qui 
magnae artis subtilitate tantum efiferavit argentum . . . ut diem 
suum sibi domus faciat, licet sole nolente : sic cubicula, sic 
porticus, sic ipsae valvae fulgurant." 

" Namque saxum immani magnitudine procerum, et inaccessa 
salebritate lubricum, mediis e faucibus lapidis fonles horridos 
evomebat : qui statim proni foraminis lacunis editi, perque proclive 
delapsi, et angusti canalis exerto contecti tramite, proximam 
convallem latenter incidebant." 

Apuleius might very well have written such a sentence as 
this :— 

" Yet the pitiless sword had such pity of so precious an object 
that at first it did but hit flatlong. But litde availed that, since the 
lady falling down astonished withal, the cruel villain forced the 
sword with another blow to divorce the fair marriage of the 
head and body." 

And in spite of Sidney's strictures upon the conceits of 


Euphuism, there was not much to choose between Lyly and 
such extravagances as this : — 

" Exceedingly sorry for Pamela, but exceedingly exceeding that 
exceedingness in fear for Philoclea." 

The fact is, there are bound to be these freaks and extra- 
vagances whilst a style is still in such an inchoate and 
experimental state as English prose was in from the time 
of Malory and Berners, and the other early architects of a 
style unfettered by metre, with whom, as Mr John Dover 
Wilson has shown in his work on John Lyly, the germs 
of Euphuism found their way into English long before 
Guevara was known in this country, although the tendency 
is nearly always attributed to his influence. The writers of 
this period could not evolve even a poetic prose without 
falling into these pitfalls, for the simple reason that they 
wrote a century b8fore the principles of what may be called 
a normal prose style had been determined. Mr Watts-Dunton 
has pointed out that in the present age there is another 
kind of poetic prose in process of evolution, a prose " which 
above all other kinds holds in suspense the essential qualities 
of poetry." Prose to be truly poetical, he argues, must move 
far away from the "tremendous perorations of De Quincey, 
or the sonorous and highly-coloured descriptions of Ruskin," 
and must no doubt be something very different from what 
Sidney and other writers made of Elizabethan prose, noble 
as their achievement was. 

" It must, in a word, have all the qualities of what we technically 
call poetry except metre. We have, indeed, said before that while 
the poet's object is to arouse in the listener an expectancy of cssuric 
effects, the great goal before the writer of poetic prose is in the 
very opposite direction ; it is to make use of the concrete figures 
and impassioned diction that are the poet's vehicle, but at the same 
time to avoid the expectancy of metrical bars." 

Such a prose as this must be the very latest product of literary 
effort. Its difference from the poetic prose actually evolved 
in the transitional age with which we are dealing, is the 
difference between an art founded on long experience and 
many attempts and failures, and above all on a sound 
philosophy of aesthetic causes and effects, and the essays of 


Lyly's new-fangled speech, which became fashionable in all 
cultivated circles immediately upon the publication of Euphues, 
or the Anatomic of Wit, in 1579; but his own affectations 
are equally alien from purity of style. Both were striving 
after a prose having a richness, a style of ornament, and an 
artistic structure, that would furnish some equivalent for the 
charms to ear and mind of metrical language. In this they 
were simply repeating the attempt of the late Greek and 
Latin novelists, whose style anticipated many of the mannerisms 
of Elizabethan prose, the false antithees, the word-jingles, the 
artificial cadences, and alliteration. Phrases like, " Sine pretio 
pretiosse," " Amores amare coerceas," " Atra atria Proserpinse," 
in the Golden Ass of Apuleius, are marvellously like the flowers 
of speech affected by Sidney and ■ Lyly. The scholiasts used 
to arrange the prose of this author in iambic measures, and 
would no doubt have applied similar tests to Sidney's. And 
the fondness for involved, musical periods, the love of 
sensuousness and splendour, are features common to both 
schools of writers. Here are two sentences from Apuleius 
showing precisely the same effort to maintain the glories 
of poetry, and the same cloying rhetoric that is the result 
in Sidney and his contemporaries ; — 

"Mirus prorsus homo, immo semideus, vel carte Deus, qui 
magnae artis subtilitate tantum efferavit argentum . . . ut diem 
suum sibi domus faciat, licet sole nolente : sic cubicula, sic 
porticus, sic ipsae valvae fulgurant." 

" Namque saxum immani magnitudine procerum, et inaccessa 
salebritate lubricum, mediis e faucibus lapidis fonles horridos 
evomebat : qui statim proni foraminis lacunis editi, perque proclive 
delapsi, et angusti canalis exerto contecti tramite, proximam 
convallem latenter incidebant." 

Apuleius might very well have written such a sentence as 
this :— 

" Yet the pitiless sword had such pity of so precious an object 
that at first it did but hit fladong. But little availed that, since the 
lady falling down astonished withal, the cruel villain forced the 
sword with another blow to divorce the fair marriage of the 
head and body." 

And in spite of Sidney's strictures upon the conceits of 


Euphuism, there was not much to choose between Lyly and 
such extravagances as this : — 

" Exceedingly sorry for Pamela, but exceedingly exceeding that 
exceedingness in fear for Philoclea." 

The fact is, there are bound to be these freaks and extra- 
vagances whilst a style is still in such an inchoate and 
experimental state as English prose was in from the time 
of Malory and Earners, and the other early architects of a 
style unfettered by metre, with whom, as Mr John Dover 
Wilson has shown in his work on John Lyly, the germs 
of Euphuism found their way into English long before 
Guevara was known in this country, although the tendency 
is nearly always attributed to his influence. The writers of 
this period could not evolve even a poetic prose without 
falling into these pitfalls, for the simple reason that they 
wrote a century before the principles of what may be called 
a normal prose style had been determined. Mr Watts-Dunton 
has pointed out that in the present age there is another 
kind of poetic prose in process of evolution, a prose " which 
above all other kinds holds in suspense the essential qualities 
of poetry." Prose t6 be truly poetical, he argues, must move 
far away from the "tremendous perorations of De Quincey, 
or the sonorous and highly-coloured descriptions of Ruskin," 
and must no doubt be something very different from what 
Sidney and other writers made of Elizabethan prose, noble 
as their achievement was. 

" It must, in a word, have all the qualities of what we technically 
call poetry except metre. We have, indeed, said before that while 
the poet's object is to arouse in the listener an expectancy ofcaesuric 
effects, the great goal before the writer of poetic prose is in the 
very opposite direction ; it is to make use of the concrete figures 
and impassioned diction that are the poet's vehicle, but at the same 
time to avoid the expectancy of metrical bars." 

Such a prose as this must be the very latest product of literary 
effort. Its difference from the poetic prose actually evolved 
in the transitional age with which we are dealing, is the 
difference between an art founded on long experience and 
many attempts and failures, and above all on a sound 
philosophy of esthetic causes and effects, and the essays of 


men who were not yet clear as to the objects they ought 
to aim at. So uncertain was Sidney even as to the true 
genius of English poetry that he was one of the most ardent 
members of the "Areopagus," who endeavoured to reform 
English poetry on Italian and classical principles, the results 
of which attempt may be appraised in the verses inserted 
in the Arcadia. The indispensable basis for a sound poetic 
prose, if such a thing is feasible, must be a satisfactory norm ■ 
of unpoetic prose. 

Sidney's romance did not escape ridicule in his own time ; 
Ben Johnson parodied Arcadianism in Every Man out of his 
Humour; Dekker poked fun at Arcadian and Euphuised 
gentlewomen in the GuFs Home-book ; and the involved and 
careless construction of the story came in for mild satire in one 
of the earliest burlesques of chivalrous and pastoral romances, 
Sorel's Berger Extravagant, which was translated by John 
Davies of Kidwelly in a book that may be remembered by 
its sub-title, the Anti-Romance. The criticism in the passage 
following is not particularly acute, but is cited because few 
readers of Sidney are likely to come across such a very rare 
work as this translation (1648). 

" Nor hath England wanted its Arcadia, whereof it is not long 
since we have had the translation. I find no more order in that 
than in the rest, and there are many things whereof I am not at all 
satisfied. At the very beginning you have the complaints of the 
shepherds Strephon and Clavis upon the departure of Urania, 
without telling us who she was, nor whither she went. Now an 
author ought never to begin his book but he should mention the 
persons principally concerned in the history whose actions he is to 
raise up beyond any of the rest ; yet this man makes afterward no 
more mention of these two shepherds than if he had never named 
them ; and though he bring them in again at some sports before 
Basilius, yet that signifies nothing, since a man finds no period of 
their adventures, and that those verses wherein they speak of their 
loves are so obscure that they may be taken for the oracles of a 
Sybill. It is true that Sir PhiHp dying young might have left his 
work imperfect ; but there's no reason why we should suffer by 
that misfortune, and be obliged to take a thing for perfect because 
it might have been made so." 

. . . Thus Clarimond in his " Oration against Poetry, Fables 
and Romances " ; Philiris in his " Vindication " replies : 


" As for Sidney's Arcadia, since it hath crossed the sea to come 
and see us, I am sorry Clarimond receives it with such poor 
compliments. If he hears nothing of the loves of Strephon and 
Clavis, he must not quarrel with the author who hath made his 
book one of the most excellent in the world. There are discourses 
of love and discourses of state so generous and pleasant that I 
should never be weary to read them. I should say much in his 
commendation were I not in haste to speak of Astraea, which 
Clarimond brings in next, and I am very glad to find that book 
generally esteemed, which should oblige him to esteem it also." 

Sorel's Berger Extravagant appeared in 1628. Two French 
translations of the Arcadia had already been made, one by 
Baudoin in 1624, and a second by D. Geneviefve, Chappelain, 
the year following. The book was translated into German 
in 1629, by Valentinus Theocritus, whose translation was 
revised by Martin Opitz, and appeared again in 1643 and 

It would be rash to assert that the Arcadia, not published 
until 1590, though circulated widely in manuscript during the 
preceding decade, had any influence on the pastorals of Greene 
and Lodge, who boasted their adherence to the linguistic 
fashions set in 1579 by Lyly's Euphues. It is enough to 
observe that these and the Arcadia\i3.\e, many close resemblances 
which are proofs of a common ancestry. Robert Greene's 
Pandosto (1588), the original of Shakespeare's Winter's Tale, 
his Menaphon (1589), and Philomela (1592); and Lodge's 
Rosalynde: Euphues' golden legacie (1590), whence As you like 
it was derived, have the Arcadian scenes and the atmosphere 
of fairy-land, combined with the same strain of chivalrous 
adventure, and the same complicated love-plots as Sidney's 
romance. I venture to quote from Professor Courthope's 
History of English Poetry a passage emphasising the strong 
feminine interest which was such a prominent feature in Lyly, 
Lodge, and Greene, as well as in Sidney. 

" But after all, the element in the Arcadia which produced the 
greatest effect upon contemporary taste, on account of the dramatic 
tendencies of the age, was the one which Sidney derived from his 
study of Montemayor. Perhaps the most noticeable feature in the 
story is the complete elimination of the magical and supernatural 
machinery which formed so important a part of the older romances 


In imitation of Montemayor, Sidney now concentrated the main 
interest of his narrative in the compUcations of the love-plots. 
The consequence of this device was to bring the exhibition of 
female character into greater prominence. In the old chivalric 
poetry and fiction no more than three types of women are 
represented, the insipid idol of male worship who shows ' mercy ' 
and 'pity' to her lover, according to the regulation pattern of 
the Cours d' Amour ; the fickle mistress, like Cressida, who is in- 
constant to one lover, and so violates the code of chivalry ; and the 
unfaithful wife of the class of Guinevere and Iseult. The Arcadia, 
on the other hand, is full of feminine heroines, martyrs, and 
monsters, each of whom plays her own distinct part in the develop- 
ment of the action. There is the ideal maiden, Pamela or Philoclea, 
type of lofty virtue, forerunner of the Clarissas and Belindas of 
Richardson ; the vicious Queen Cecropia recalling the Phaedras 
and Sthenobasas of Greek legend ; Gynecia, the passion-stricken 
wife of a respectable elderly husband, a favourite figure in the 
modern French novel ; the clownish Mopsa, the original, perhaps, 
of Shakespeare's Audrey ; and, above all, the representative of 
adventurous, unhappy, self-sacrificing love in its various aspects ; . 
Helen, Queen of Corinth, Parthenia, and Zelmane, predecessors 
of Shakespeare's Viola, Helena, and Imogen." 

The popularity of the book, rivalling that of Euphues, is 
illustrated by the number of editions, of which a list will be 
given later. Sidney found writers eager to continue the story, 
and many imitators. The argument of John Day's lie of Guls 
(1606) was "a little string or rivolet drawne from the full 
streme of the right worthy gentleman, Sir Phillip Sydney's well 
knowne Archadea." Shirley dramatised many episodes in his 
Pastorall called the Arcadia (1640); the story of the dis- 
possessed king of Paphlagonia and his son is probably the 
germ of Shakespeare's episode of Gloucester and his sons in 
King Lear, and Mr C. Crawford has found traces of copying 
in the Duchess of Malfi and other plays of Webster. The 
author of the Emblemes, Francis Quarles, made a long poem 
out of the story of Argalus and Parthenia (1622); and other 
writers linked their compositions to the popularity and prestige 
of the Arcadia by using Sidney's name as their advertisement 
like the author of Sir Philip Sydney's Ourania (1606), a 
philosophical poem dedicated to the Countess of Pembroke 
and the Lady Mary Wroath, a niece of Sidney, who produced 
a slavish imitation in The Countess of Montgomerie's Urania 


(1621), and made great play with her pedigree on the title- 
page. Excerpts and adaptations were published right down 
to the late seventeenth century. 

The first edition of the Arcadia was published in 1590, four 
years after the author's death. He did not finish the book, 
which had been begun for the amusement of his sister, the 
Countess of Pembroke, while he was in exile from the court 
and living at' Wilton House, the seat of the Pembrokes. It 
was Sidney's dying request that the manuscript should be 
destroyed, and the dedicatory epistle to his sister expresses 
how little he valued the book as a literary performance : — 

" If you keep it to yourself, or to such friends who will weigh 
error in the balance of good-will, I hope for the father's sake it 
will J3e pardoned, perchance made much of, though in itself it have 
deformities. For indeed for severer eyes it is not, being a trifle, 
and that triflingly handled." 

The Arcadia was entered in the Register of the Stationer's 

Company in 1588, by William Ponsonbie, the publisher of 

Spenser's Fairie Queene ; and the first edition saw the light in 

a thick quarto in 1590. A photo-lithographic reproduction of 

this handsome first edition was published in 1891 by Dr 

Oskar Sommer, to whose scholarly bibliographical introduction 

I am indebted for the following list of the various editions. 

The fourth and fifth books, and a portion of the third book 

(57 P^'ges), were added in the second edition, in 1593, a folio, 

by the same publisher. Beyond this, there are few variations 

in the text of the two editions. The third edition (1598), also 

by Ponsonbie, comprised Sidney's Sonnets, Astrephel and Stella, 

and the Defence of Poesie ; and these works were again included 

in the fourth edition (misdescribed as the third) by Robert 

Walde-graue, at Edinburgh, in 1599.^^ Mathew Lownes' edition 

(1605), the fifth (miscalled the fourth), is almost a facsimile 

reprint of the third ; but in the next edition, described on the 

title-page as the fourth (1613), we get some new "additions," 

but of small importance compared with those in the seventh 

(described in the title as the fifth), published in 162 1 at Dublin, 

which included a " Supplement of a defect in the third part 

^ Mr H. R. Plomer, in an interesting paper contributed to the Library, 
vol. i. (New Series), pp. 195-205, shows that this was «- pirated edition ; 
and perhaps the same is the case with the Dublin edition of 1739, 
mentioned below. 


of this History, by Sir W. Alexander," which had been printed 
separately at Dublin the same year. In the present edition 
his supplement begins on page 428 and ends on page 451, where 
Sir William's apologie for the liberty taken is duly quoted. 
Sir William Alexander of Menstrie, afterwards Earl of Stirling, 
was a poet and dramatist, and a statesman of genius, who died 
in 1610. He was a friend of Drummond of Hawthornden. 
The Dictionary of National Biography states wrongly that he 
published this continuation of the third book of the Arcadia 
in 1 6 13, the date of the so-called fourth edition, certain copies 
of which have extracts from this work inserted. The first 
London edition, to which Sir William Alexander's supplement 
was added, was the eighth, published in 1623; but it is 
doubtful whether the additional matter was really printed as 
a part of the volume, or added from the 1621 edition, or some 
other of which there is no trace, to the only copy of this issue 
known to Dr Sommer. The pagination, at any rate, is in a 
confused state pointing to this. 

The sixth book of the Arcadia by Richard Beling (see infra 
p. 631), first published at Dublin, in 1624, was added to the 
ninth edition, miscalled the sixth, in 1627. It is not mentioned 
on the title, but before this new supplement another title-page 
is inserted, running as follows, "A Sixth Booke to the Countesse 
of Pembrokes Arcadia : written by R. B. of Lincolnes Inne 
Esquire. (Sat, si bene; si male, nimium.) London, printed 
by H. L. and R. Y. 1628," thus dating a year later than the 
title-page proper. After Beling's continuation come the 
Sonnets, the Defence of Poesie, Astrophel, etc. This edition 
was reprinted in exact conformity, except that the new title- 
page mentions the work of Beling, in 1629 ; and the five other 
seventeenth-century editions, appearing in 1633, 1638, 1655, 
1662, and 1674, corresponded exactly in all textual respects 
but the title-page, except that in the twelfth, described as the 
ninth, edition (1638), an alternative supplement to a defect in 
the third book is introduced by Mr Ja. Johnstoun, "Scoto- 
Brit," and in addition to this the 1655 edition contained the 
forty-eight couplets entitled "A Remedie for Loue," and an 
alphabetical table, or clavis, forming an index to the stories 
in the Arcadia. 

Dr Sommer mentions only one edition in the eighteenth 


century, one in three volumes containing also the poetical 
works and the Defence of Poe^y, and described as the fourteenth 
edition, although fifteen previous editions have now been 
enumerated. The title of the first volume is dated 1725, but 
the other two volumes bear that of the preceding year, 
the preliminary matter of the first not having, apparently, 
been completed in 1724. This was a London edition, and 
Dr Sommer was not aware of another seventeenth century 
edition, printed at Dublin in 1739, which was a reproduction 
of this one : it bears the imprint, " Dublin : printed by 
S. Powell, for T. Moore, at Erasmuses Head in Dame Street, 
Bookseller, MDCCXXXIX " ; and a copy has been used in 
preparing the present edition. 

The only edition of the Arcadia in the nineteenth century, 
with the exception of the photographic reproduction of the first 
edition by Dr Sommer, was published by Sampson Low, Son, 
and Marston, in 1867, and was preceded by an introductory 
essay by Hain Fris\yell, the author of The Gentle Life, who 
says : — 

"The principle on which this z^iXxora.oi'Ctvt. Arcadia has been put 
through the press perhaps needs some explanation. As the sheets 
of MS. left the hands of Sidney, after the first book, or perhaps two, 
had been completed, they were transmitted to his sister the Countess 
of Pembroke, and some of them mislaid and lost. Hence one great 
hiatus supplied by Sir William Alexander, others by R(ichard) 
B(eling) and Mr Johnstone. It is also known that the Countess of 
Pembroke added to the episodes, adventures, and strange turns, at 
least in all the later books. Hence there is to be met with an 
Arcadian undergrowth which needs much careful pruning ; and this 
undertaken, with needful compression, will leave the reader all that 
he desires of Sidney's own. Growing like certain fanciful parasites 
upon forest trees, on the books of the Arcadia are certain eclogues 
of laboriously- written and fantastical poetry, some in Latin measures, 
against which Walpole was right to protest, and anent which Pope 
said : — 

' And Sidney's verse halts ill on Roman feet. ' 

"These have been boldly removed without any loss, it is believed, 
to the romance ; lastly, long episodes of no possible use to the book, 
which we think have been supplied by other hands than Sidney's 
have, whilst using their very words and phrases, been cut down. 


father, from King Philip, then lately married to Queen Mary. 
While he was very young, he was sent to Christ Church 
College in Oxford to be improved in all sorts of learning; 
where continuing till he was about seventeen years of age 
under the tuition of Dr Tho. Thornton, canon of that 
house, he was, in June 1572, sent to travel; for on the 24th 
of August following, when the massacre fell out at Paris, he 
was then there, and at that time, as I conceive, he, with other 
Englishmen, did fly to the house of the ambassador from the 
Queen of England.^ Thence he went through Lorraine, and 
by Strasburg and Heidelburg to Frankfort, in September or 
October following, where he settles, is entertained agent for 
the Duke of Saxony, and an underhand minister for his • 
own king. Lodged he was in Wechel's house, the printer 
of Frankfort.^ Here he was accompanied by the famous 
Hubert Languet; and in the next spring, 1573, Languet 
removed to Vienna, where our author met him again, and 
stayed with him till September, when he went into Hungary 
and those parts. Thence he journeyed into Italy, where he 
continued all the winter following, and most of the summer, 
1574, and then he returned into Germany with Languet; and 
the next spring he returned by Frankfort, Heidelburg, and 
Antwerp, home into England, about May 1575. 

In the year 1576 he was sent by the Queen to Rodolph, 
the Emperor, to condole the death of Maximilian, and also 
to other princes of Germany ; at which time he caused this 
inscription to be written under his arms, which he then hung 
up in all places where he lodged : — 

' ' Illustrissimi et generosissimi viri 
Philipi Sidnaei, Angli, 
Pro-regis Hibernise filii, Comitum Warwici 
Et Leicestriaa Nepotis, serenissimi 
Reginae Anglije ad Csesarem legati." 

The next year, 1577, in his return, he saw that gallant 
Prince Don John de Austria, Viceroy of the low countries 
for the King of Spain, and William, Prince of Orange; by 
the former of which, though at first he was lightly esteemed 

^ Wood, ut supra. 

' See his "Life," ut supra, p. 8. 


upon the account of his youth, yet, after some discourse, 
he found himself so stricken with him that the beholders 
wondered to see what tribute that brave and high-minded 
prince paid to his worth, giving more honour and respect to 
him, in his private capacity, than to the ambassadors of mighty 

In the year 1579 he, though neither magistrate nor counsellor, 
did show himself, for several weighty reasons, opposite to the 
Queen's matching with the Duke of Anjou, which he very 
pithily expressed by a due address of his humble reasons to 
her, as may be fully seen in a book called "Cabala" (Part III., 
p. 201). The said address was written at the desire of some 
great personage — his Uncle Robert, I suppose, Earl of 
Leicester, upon which a great quarrel happened between him 
and Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford. This, as I conceive, 
might occasion his retirement from Court next summer, 1580, 
wherein, perhaps, he wrote that pleasant romance called 
" Arcadia." 1 

In 1581 the treaty of marriage was renewed, and our author, 
Sidney, with Fulke Grevil,^ were two of the tilters at the 
entertainment of the French Ambassador ; and at the departure 
of the Duke of Anjou from England, in February of the same 
year, he attended him to Antwerp.' 

On the 8th of January 1582 he, with Perigrine Bertie, 
received the honour of knighthood from the Queen, and in 
the beginning of 1585 he designed an expedition with Sir 
Francis Drake into America, but being hindered by the 
Queen (in whose opinion he was so highly prized that she 
thought the Court deficient without him) he was, in October 
following, made Governor of Flushing — about that time 
delivered to the Queen for one of the cautionary towns — and 
General of the Horse. In both which places of great trust 
his carriage testified to the world his wisdom and valour, with 
addition of honour to his country by them ; and especially 
the more, when in July 1586 he surprised Axil, and preserved 
the Uves and honour of the English army at the enterprise of 
Gravelin : so that whereas (through the fame of his high 

1 See Wood, p. 227. 

^ Annal. Camdeni, sub. Ann. 158 1. 

' Ibid. Ann. 1582. 


deserts) he was then, or rather before, in election for the 
Crown of Poland, the Queen of England refused to further 
his advancement, not out of emulation, but out of fear to lose 
the jewel of her times. What can be said more? He was a 
statesman, soldier, and scholar — a complete master of matter 
and language, as his immortal pen shows. His pen and his 
sword have rendered him famous enough : he died by the one, 
and by the other he will ever live as having been hitherto 
highly extolled for it by the pens of princes. This is the 
happiness of art, that although the sword doth achieve the 
honour, yet the arts do record it, and no pen hath made it 
better known than his own in that book called "Arcadia." 
Certain it is, he was a noble and matchless gentleman, and 
it may be justly said, without hyperbole or fiction, as it was of 
Cato Uticensis, that "he seemed to be born to that oiily 
which he went about." His written works are these : — 

The Countess of Pembroke's " Arcadia," ^ which being the 
most celebrated romance that was ever written, was consecrated 
to his noble, virtuous, and learned sister Mart, the wife of 
Henry, Earl of Pembroke, who, having lived to a very fair 
age, died in her house in Aldersgate Street, in London, the 
25th of September 162 1, whereupon her body was buried in 
the cathedral church of Salisbury, among the graves of the 
Pembrochian family. This " Arcadia," though then, and since, 
it was, and is, taken into the hands of all ingenious men, and 
said by one living at, or near, the time when first published, to 
be " a book most famous for rich conceits and splendour of 
courtly expressions." This work was first printed in the year 
1 61 3 in quarto; it hath been translated into French, Dutch, 
and other languages in 1624. 

Besides AstropM and Stella^ A Remedy for Love, The 
Defence of Poesy? Sonnets, etc., Sir Philip also turned the 
Psalms of David into English verse, which are in manuscript 
in the Hbrary of the Earl of Pembroke at Wilton, curiously 
bound in a crimson velvet cover, left thereunto by his sister 
Mary, Countess of Pembroke.* 

1 Published 1590 {Ibid. i. 324). 

^ First printed, 1591. ' 

^ First printed, 1595. 

^ See Wood, ut supra. 


The following dialogue, composed by our author, was spoken 
between two shepherds in a pastoral entertainment before 
several gentlemen and ladies at the seat of the noble family 
above mentioned. 

Will. Dick, since we cannot dance, come, let a cheerful voice 
Show that we do not grudge at all, when others do rejoice. 
Dick. Ah, Will, though I grudge not, I count it feeble glee. 
With sight made dim with daily tears, another's sport to see. 
Whoever lambkins saw (yet lambkins love to play) 
To play when that their loved dams are stoU'n or gone astray? 
If this in them be true, as true in men, think I, 
A lustless song, forsooth, thinks he, that hath more lust to cry. 
Will. A time there is for all, my mother often says. 
When she, with skirts tuck'd very high, with girls at stoolball plays. 
When thou hast mind to weep, seek out some smoky room : 
Now let those lightsome sights we see, thy darkness overcome. 
Dick. What joy the joyful sun gives unto bleared eyes. 
That comfort in these sports you like, my mind his comfort tries. 
Will. What ! is thy bagpipe broke ? or are thy lambs miswent ? 
Thy wallet or thy tar-box lost ? or thy new raiment rent ? 
Dick. I would it were but thus, for thus it were too well. 
Will. Thou seest my ears do itch at it ; good Dick, thy sorrow tell. 
Dick, Hear then, and learn to sigh ; a mistress I do serve, 
Whose wages make me beg the more, who feeds me till I starve, 
Whose livery is such, as most I freeze apparelled most, 
And look ! so near unto my cure, that I must needs be lost. 
Will. What ? these are riddles sure ; art thou then bound to her ? 
Dick. Bound as I neither power have, nor would have power to stir. 
Will. Who bound thee ? 
Dick. Love, my lord. 

Will. What witnesses thereto ? 

Dick. Faith in myself, and worth in her, which no proof can undo. 
Will. What seal? 

Dick. My heart deep graven. 

Will. What made the band so fast ? 

Dick. Wonder, that by two so black eyes the glittering stars be past. 
Will. What keepeth safe thy band ? 

Dick. Remembrance is the chest 

Lock'd fast with knowing that she is of worldly things the best. 
Will. Thou late of wages 'plainst : what wages mayst thou have ? 
Dick. Her heav'nly looks, which more and more do give me cause to crave. 
Will. If wages make you want, what food is that she gives ? 
Dick. Tear's drink, sorrow's meat, wherewith, not I, but in me my death lives. 
Will. What living get you then ? 

Dick. Disdain ; but just disdain : 

So have I cause myself to plain, but no cause to complain. 
Will. What care takes she for thee ? 


Dick. Her care is to prevent 

My freedom with show of her beams, with virtue my content. 
Will. God shield us from such dames. If so our downs be sped 
The shepherds will grow lean, I trow, their sheep will be ill fed ; 
But, Dick, my counsel mark : run from the place of woe ; 
The arrow being shot from far doth give the smaller blow. 
Dick. Good Will, I cannot lack the good advice, before 
That foxes leave to steal, because they find they die therefore. 
Will. Then, Dick, let us go hence, lest we great folks annoy ; 
For nothing can more tedious be, than 'plaint in time of joy. 
Dick. Oh, hence ! O cruel word ! which even dogs do hate ; 
But hence, even hence, I must needs go— such is my dogged fate. 

To return again to Sir Philip. 

In the year 1586,1 when that unfortunate stand was made 
against the Spaniards before Zutphen, the 22nd of September, 
while he was getting upon the third horse, having had two 
slain under him before, he was wounded with a musket shot 
out of the trenches, which brake the bone of his thigh. The 
horse he rode upon was rather furiously choleric than bravely 
proud, and so forced him to forsake the field, but not his 
back, as the noblest and fittest bier to carry a martial com- 
mander to his grave. In which sad progress, passing along 
by the rest of the army, where his uncle,^ the general, was, 
and, being thirsty with excess of bleeding, he called for drink, 
which was presently brought him ; but, as he was putting the 
bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along, who 
Jiad eaten his last at the same feast, ghastly casting up his eyes 
at the bottle, which Sir Philip perceiving, took it from his 
head before he drank, and delivered it to the poor man, with 
these words : " Thy necessity is yet greater than mine." And 
when he had pledged this poor soldier, he was presently 
carried to Arnheim, where the principal surgeons of the camp 
attended for him. When they began to dress his wounds, he, 
both by way of charge and advice, told them that, while his 
strength was yet entire, his body free from fever, and his mind 
able to endure, they might freely use their art, cut, and search 
to the bottom ; but if they should neglect their art, and renew 
torments in the declination of nature, their ignorance, or over- 
tenderness, would prove a kind of tyranny to their friend, and, 

' See his " Life,'' ut supra, p. 142 et seq. 
" Sir Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. 


consequently, a blemish to their reverend science. With love 
and care well mixed they began the cure, and continued it 
some sixteen days, with such confidence of his recovery as 
the joy of their hearts overflowed their discretion, and made 
them spread the intelligence of it to the Queen, and all his 
noble friends here in England, where it was received, not as 
private, hut puMc good news. 

At the same time Count Hollock was under the care of a 
most excellent surgeon for a wound in his throat by a musket 
shot, yet did he neglect his own extremity to save his friend, 
and to that end had sent him to Sir Philip. This surgeon, 
notwithstanding, out of love to his master, returning one day 
to dress his wound, the Count cheerfully asked him how Sir 
Philip did ? and he answered, with a heavy countenance, that 
he was not well. At these words the worthy prince, as having 
more sense of his friend's wound than his own, cries out : 
" Away, villain ! never see my face again, till thou bring better 
news of that man's recovery, for whose redemption many such 
as I were happily lost." 

Now, after the sixteenth day was passed, and the very 
shoulder-bones of this delicate patient worn through his skin 
with constant and obedient posturing of his body to the 
surgeon's art, he, judiciously observing the pangs his wound 
stang him with by fits, together with many other symptoms of 
decay, few or none of recovery, began rather to submit his 
body to these artists than any farther to believe in them. He 
called the ministers unto him, who were all excellent men, of 
divers nations, and before them made such a confession of 
Christian faith as no book, but the heart, can truly and 
feelingly deliver. Then, calling for his will, and settling his 
wordly affairs, the last scene of this tragedy was the parting 
between the two brothers : the weaker showing infinite strength 
in suppressing sorrow, and the stronger, infinite weakness in 
expressing of it. And to stop the natural torrent of affection 
in both, Sir Philip took his leave, with these admonishing 
words : " Love my memory, cherish my friends ; their faith to 
me may assure you they are honest. But, above all, govern 
your will and affections by the will and word of your Creator ; 
in me, beholding the end of this world, with all her vanities." 
And with this farewell, desired the company to lead him away. 


After his death, which happened on the i6th of October, 
the states of Zealand became suitors to her majesty and his 
noble friends, that they might have the honour of burying 
his body at the public expense of their government.i This 
was not permitted ; for soon after his body was brought to 
Flushing, and, being embarked with great solemnity on the 
I St of November, landed at Tower Wharf on the 6th day of 
the same month. Thence it was conveyed to the Minories 
without Aldgate, where it lay in state for some time, till his 
magnificent funeral in St Paul's Cathedral, the i6th of 
February following, which, as many princes have not exceeded 
in the solemnity, so few have equalled in the sorrow for his 
loss. He was buried near to that place which his father-in- 
law, Sir Francis Walsingham, had designed (as I have heard) 
to be entombed in, without any monument or inscription. 
King James honoured him with an epitaph of his composition, 
and the Muses, both of Oxford and Cambridge, lamenting 
much for his loss, composed verses to his memory. Besides, 
several private persons did also exercise their fancies upon 
this occasion ; for, so general was the lamentation, that it was 
accounted a sin for any gentleman of quality, for many months 
after, to appear at court or city in any light or gaudy apparel. 

No monument hath since been erected over him, whereof 
this reason is assigned, that " He is his own monument, whose 
memory is eternised in his writings, and who was born into 
the world to show unto our age a sample of ancient virtues." ^ 

He left behind him a daughter named Elizabeth, who was 
born in 1585. She married Roger Mannours, Earl of Rutland, 
but died without issue.^ 

I confess it is commonly reported that Sir Philip,* some 
hours before his death, enjoined a near friend to consign these 
his works to the flames, whereby posterity had been deprived 
of much pleasure and profit accruing thereby. What promise 
his friend returned herein is uncertain; but if he broke his 
word to be faithful to the public good, posterity will absolve 
him, without doing any penance, for being guilty of such a 

■* See his "Life," ut supra, p. 165. 

'^ Camd. Brit, in Kent. 

^ SeeWood, ui supra. 

* See his " Life," prefixed to the last edition folio. 


meritorious offence, wherewith he hath obliged so many ages. 
Hear the excellent epigrammatist, Owen, hereon : — 

"Ipse tuam moriens, vel conjuge teste, jubebas 
Arcadiam ssevis ignibus esse cibum. 
Si meruit mortem, quia flammam accendit amoris ; 

Mergi, non Uri debuit iste liber. 
In librum qusscunque cadat sententia ; nulla 
Debuit ingenium morte perire luum. " 

As the ancient Egyptians presented secrets under their 
mystical hieroglyphics, so that an easy figure was exhibited to 
the eye, and a higher notion tendered under it to the judgment, 
so all the "Arcadia" is a continual grove of morality, 
shadowing moral and politic results under the plain and easy 
emblems of lovers, so that the reader may be deceived, but 
not hurt thereby, when surprised on a sudden to more 
knowledge than he expected. 

I will not here endeavour to offer the reader a key to 
unfold what persons were intended under the fictitious 
denominations : herein must men shoot at the wild rovers 
of their own conjectures. And many have forged keys of 
their own fancies, all pretended to be the right, though unlike 
one to another. But, besides, it is an injury to impose guesses 
for truths on any belief; such applications, rather made than 
meant, are not without reflections on families, as may justly 
give distaste. I dare confidently aver that the wards of this 
lock are grown so rusty with time that a modern key will 
scarce unlock it, seeing in above a hundred years many 
criticisms of time, place, and person, wherein the life and 
lustre of this story did consist, are utterly lost, and unknown 
in our age. 

Vita Philippi Sidnei. 

" Qui dignos ipsi vita scripsere libellos 
> lUorum vitam scribere non opus est. 

Sidnei in tumulo est, corpus non vita : Philippi 

Producit vitam gloria, longa brevem." — Owen. 


GuLiELMUs Camdenus de Prselio inter Anglos et Hispanos 
prope Zutphaniam in Geldrii. 

Anno Dom. 1586. 

" Ex Anglis pauci desiderati ; sed qui instar plurimorum, 
SiDNEius, equo perfosso dum alterum ascendit, glande femur 
trajectus,^ vicesimo quinto post die, magno sui desiderio bonis 
relicto, in flore setatis exspiravit, vix quatuor menses patri 
superstes. Cui Leicestrius avunculus in Angliam reversus, 
exequias, magno apparatu, et militari ritu, in Templo Sti. Pauli 
Londini solvit, Jacobus Rex Scotorum epitaphio parentavit : 
utraque Academia lacrymas consecravit, et Novum Oxoniae 
Collegium elegantissimum ^ Peplum contexuit. Hagc et 
ampliora viri virtus, ingenium splendidissimum, eruditio 
politissima, moresque suavissimi meruerunt." 

Mr Carew, in his "Survey of Cornwall," p. 102, 

" Being a scholar at Oxford at fourteen years of age, and 
three years standing upon a wrong-conceived opinion touching 
my sufl5ciency, I was then called to dispute extempore with 
the matchless Sir Philip Sidney, in presence of the Earls of 
Leicester and Warwick, and divers other great personages."' 

Dr Heylin, in his " Cosmography." 

"Arcadia in Greece is a country whose fitness for pasturage 

' Viz. 16th October 1586. 

2 The title of the Oxford verses published upon the death of our author. 

' We cannot fix the date, nor on what occasion this great appearance of 
nobility was then at Oxford, only that the Earl of Leicester was high 
chancellor of that University. 


razing hath made it the subject of many worthy and 
liscourses, especially that of Sir PhiHp Sidney, of whom 
not but make honourable mention. A book, which, 
s its excellent language, rare contrivances, and delectable 
, hath in it all the strains of poesy, comprehendeth the 
sal art of speaking, and, to them who can discern, and 
bserve, affordeth notable rules for demeanour, both 
; and public." 

Mr Lloyd, in his " State Worthies." 

is romance was but policy played with Machiavel in jest, 
:ate maxims sweetened to a courtier's palate. He writ 
LS exactly as he studied them ; and discerned humours 
court with the same deep insight he described them in 
ok. All were pleased with his 'Arcadia' but himself, 
years advanced him so much beyond himself as his 
did beyond others. He condemned his 'Arcadia,' in 
3re retired judgment, to the fire, which wise men think 
ontinue to the last conflagration. It was he whom 
I Elizabeth called her Philip,^ the Prince of Orange 
aster, and whose friendship my Lord Brooks was so 
of that he would have no other epitaph on his grave 
his : — 

' Here lieth Sir Philip Sidney's friend.' " 

Sir William Temple, in his " Essay on Poetry.'' 

le true spirit or vein of ancient poetry, under the name 
lance, seems to shine most in Sir Philip Sidney, whom 
;m both the greatest poet and the noblest genius of any 
ive left writings behind them, and published in ours, or 
her modern language. A person born capable, not only 
raing the greatest ideas, but of leaving the noblest 
les, if the length of his life had been equal to the 
;nce of his wit and his virtues." 

' In opposition to Philip of Spain. 


Mr Lee, in his " Dedication of Caesar Borgia." 

To the Right Honourable Philip, Earl of Pembroke and 

"My lord, — Your illustrious forefathers and, indeed, all 
your eminent relations, have always been of the first-rate 
nobility, patrons of wit and arms, magnificently brave, true 
old stampt Britons, and ever foremost in the race of glory. 
Not to unravel half your honourable records, I challenge all 
the men of fame to show an equal to the immortal Sidney, 
even when so many contemporary worthies flourished. I 
mean Sir Philip, true rival of your honour; one that could 
match your spirit ; so most extravagantly great that he refused 
to be a king. He was at once a Caesar and a Virgil, the leading 
soldier, and the foremost poet. All after this must fail: I 
have paid just veneration to his name, and, methinks, the 
spirit of Shakespear pushed the commendation." 

Mr Philips, in his "Sixth Pastoral." 

" Full fain, O blest Eliza ! would I praise 
Thy maiden rule, and Albion's golden days. 
Then gentle Sidney liv'd, the shepherd's friend ; 
Eternal blessings on his shade attend ! " 

My Dear Lady and Sister, 


now have you (most dear, and most worthy to be 
dear lady !) this idle work of mine, which, I fear, like the 
's web, will be thought fitter to be swept away, than 
to any other purpose. For my part, in very truth (as 
•uel fathers among the Greeks were wont to do to the 

they would not foster), I could well find in my heart to 
lut, in some desert of forgetfulness, this child, which I 
th to father. But you desired me to do it, and your 

to my heart is an absolute commandment. Now, it is 
only for you, only to you : if you keep it to yourself, or 
lend it to such friends who will weigh errors in the 
:e of goodwill, I hope, for the father's sake, it will be 
ned, perchance, made much of, though in itself it have 
nities. For indeed, for severer eyes it is not, being but 
e, and that triflingly handled. Your dear self can best 
3S the manner, being done in loose sheets of paper, most 
in your presence; the rest by sheets sent unto you, as 
s they were done. In sum, a young head, not so well 
i as I would it were, and shall be when God will, having 

fancies begotten in it, if it had not been in some way 
;red, would have grown a monster, and more sorry might 
:hat they came in, than that they gat out. But this chief 
■ shall be the not walking abroad; and his chief pro- 
in, the bearing the livery of your name, which, if much 



" Well, then, remembrance commanded, we obeyed, and here we 
find that as our remembrance came everclothed unto us in the 
form of this place, so this place gives new heat to the fever of our 
languishing remembrance. Yonder, my Claius, Urania lighted ; the 
very horse, methought, bewailed to be so disburdened : and as for 
thee, poor Claius, when thou wentest to help her down, I saw 
reverence and desire so divide thee, that thou didst at one instant 
both blush and quake, and instead of bearing her wert ready to 
fall down thyself. There she sat, vouchsafing my cloak (then most 
gorgeous) under her : at yonder rising of the ground she turned 
herself, looking back towards her wonted abode, and because of her 
parting, bearing much sorrow in her eyes, the lightsomeness where- 
of had yet so natural a cheerfulness that it made even sorrow seem 
to smile ; at that turning she spake to us all, opening the cherry of 
her lips, and Lord how greedily mine ears did feed upon the sweet 
words she uttered ! And here she laid her hand over thine eyes, 
when she saw the tears springing in them, as if she would conceal 
them from other, and yet herself feel some of thy sorrow. But woe 
is me, yonder, yonder, did she put her foot into the boat, at that 
instant, as it were, dividing her heavenly beauty between the earth 
and the sea. But when she was embarked, did you not mark how 
the winds whistled and the seas danced for joy, how the sails did 
swell with pride, and all because they had Urania? O Urania, 
blessed be thou Urania, the sweetest fairness, and fairest 
sweetness ! " 

With that word his voice brake so with sobbing, that he could 
say no farther ; and Claius thus answered : 

"Alas my Strephon," said he, "what needs this score to reckon 
up only our losses? What doubt is there, but that the sight of 
this place doth call our thoughts to appear at the court of affection, 
held by that racking steward remembrance ? As well may sheep 
forget to fear when they spy wolves, as we can miss such fancies 
when we see any place made happy by her treading. Who can 
choose that saw her, but think where she stayed, where she walked, 
where she turned, where she spoke ? But what is all this ? truly 
no more, but as this place served us to think of those things, so 
those things serve as places to call to memory more excellent 
matters. No, no, let us think with consideration, and consider 
with acknowledging, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire 
with love, and love with joy in the midst of all woes. Let us in 
such sort think, I say, that our poor eyes were so enriched as to 
behold and our low hearts so exalted as to love a maid who is 
such, that as the greatest thing the world can shew is her beauty, 
so the least thing that may be praised in her is her beauty. 
Certainly as her eye-lids are more pleasant to behold than two 

; I.] ARCADIA 3 

i kids climbing up a fair tree, and browsing on its tenderest 
:hes, and yet are nothing comparing to the day-shining stars 
lined in them ; and as her breath is more sweet than a gentle 
i-west wind, which comes creeping over flowery fields and 
Dwed waters in the extreme heat of summer ; and yet is 
ng, compared to the honey-flowing speech that breath doth 
• : no more all that our eyes can see of her (though when they 

seen her, what else they shall ever see is but dry stubble 

clover-grass) is to be matched with the flock of unspeakable 
2S laid up delightfully in that best builded fold. But indeed, 
e can better consider the sun's beauty by marking how he 

these waters and mountains than by looking upon his own 

too glorious for our weak eyes : so it may be our conceits 
able to bear her sun-staining excellency) will better weigh it 
er works upon some meaner subject employed. And alas, 
can better witness that than we, whose experience is grounded 

feeling? Hath not the only love of her made us (being 
ignorant shepherds) raise up our thoughts above the ordinary 

of the world, so that great clerks do not disdain our con- 
ce ? Hath not the desire to seem worthy in her eyes made 
rhen others were sleeping, to sit viewing the course of the 
;ns ; when others were running at Base*, to run over 
ed writings ; when others mark their sheep, we to mark 
lives? Hath not she thrown reason upon our desires, and, 
were, given eyes unto Cupid ? Hath in any but in her love- 
iTship maintained friendship between rivals, and beauty taught 
eholders chastity ? " 

; was going on with his praises, but Stephon bade him stay 
look : and so they both perceived a thing which floated, 
ing nearer and nearer to the bank ; but rather by the favour- 
working of the sea than by any self-industry. They doubted 
le what it should be till it was cast up even hard before them, 
lich time they fully saw that it was a man. Whereupon 
ng for pity's sake unto him, they found his hands (as it should 
ir, constanter friends to his life than his memory) fast 
ing upon the edge of a square small coffer which lay all 
: his breast : else in himself no show of life, so that the board 
sd to be but a bier to carry him to land to his sepulchre. So 

they up a young man of goodly shape, and well-pleasing 
r, that one would think death had in him a lovely counten- 
; and that, though he were naked, nakedness was to him an 
el. That sight increased their compassion, and their com- 
an called up their care ; so that lifting his feet above his 

making a great deal of salt water come out of his mouth, 

* The old g^ame of prisoaer's-base, then a common rustic pastime. 


they laid him upon some of their garments, and fell to rub and 
chafe him, till they brought him to recover both breath, the 
servant, and warmth, the companion, of living. At length opening- 
his eyes, he gave a great groan (a doleful note, but a pleasant 
ditty, for by that they found not only life but strength of life in 
him). They therefore continued on their charitable office until, 
his spirits being well returned, he— without so much as thanking 
them for their pains— gat up, and looking round about to the 
uttermost limits of sight, and crying upon the name of Pyrocles, 
nor seeing nor hearing cause of comfort, "What," said he, "and 
shall Musidorus live after Pyrocles's destruction?" 

Therewithal he offered wilfully to cast himself again into the 
sea : a strange sight to the shepherds, to whom it seemed that 
before being in appearance dead, had yet saved his life, and now 
coming to his life, should be a cause to procure his death ; but 
they ran unto him, and pulling him back (then too feeble for 
them) by force stickled that unnatural fray. 

" I pray you,'' said he, " honest men, what such right have you 
in me, as not to suffer me to do with myself what I list, and what 
policy have you to bestow a benefit where it is counted an injury?" 

They hearing him speak in Greek (which was their natural 
language) became the more tender-hearted towards him, and 
considering by his calling and looking that the loss of some dear 
friend was great cause of his sorrow, told him, they were poor men 
that were bound, by course of humanity, to prevent so great a 
mischief; and that they wished him, if opinion of some body's 
perishing bred such desperate anguish in him, that he should be 
comforted by his own proof, who had lately escaped as apparent 
danger as any might be. 

" No, no," said he, " it is nor for me to attend so high a blissfiil- 
ness : but since you take care of me, I pray you find means that 
some barque may be provided, that will go out of the haven that 
if it be possible we may find the body, far, far too precious food 
for fishes : and for that hire I have within this casket of value 
sufficient to content them.'' 

Claius presently went to a fisherman, and having agreed with 
him, and provided some apparel for the naked stranger, he 
embarked, and the shepherds with him : and were no sooner gone 
beyond the mouth of the haven, but that some way into the sea 
they might discern, as it were, a stain of the water's colour, and by 
times some sparks and smoke mounting thereout. But the young 
man no sooner saw it, but that beating his breast he cried that 
there was the beginning of his ruin, entreating them to bend their 
course as near unto it as they could ; telling, how that smoke was 
but a small relique of a great fire which had driven both him and 

BOOK I.] Arcadia § 

his friend rather to commit themselves to the cold mercy of the 
sea than to abide the hot cruelty of the fire ; and that therefore, 
though they both had abandoned the ship, that he was (if any 
were) in that course to be met withal. They steered therefore as """^ 
near thither-ward as they could : but when they came so near that 
their eyes were full masters of the object, they saw a sight full of 
piteous strangeness : a ship, or rather the carcase of the ship, or 

' rather some few bones of the carcase hulling there, part broken, 
part burned, part drowned : death having used more than one dart 
to that destruction. About it floated great store of very rich 

, things and many chests which might promise no less. And 
amidst the precious things were a number of dead bodies, which 
likewise did not only testify both elements' violence, but that the 
chief violence was grown of human inhumanity : for their bodies 
were full of grisly wounds, and their blood had (as it were) filled 
the wrinkles of the sea's visage ; which it seemed the sea would 
not wash away, that it might witness that it is not always its fault 
when we do condemn its cruelty. In sum, a defeat where the 
conquered kept both field and spoil : a shipwreck without storm or 
ill-footing : and a waste of fire in the midst of the water. ^ 

But a little way off they saw the mast, whose proud height now 
lay along ; like a widow having lost her mate of whom she held 
her honour : but upon the mast they saw a young man (at least if 
he were a man) bearing show of about eighteen years of age, who 
sat (as on horse back) having nothing upon him but his shirt, 
which being wrought with blue silk and gold had a kind of 
resemblance to the sea : on which the sun (then near his western 
home) did shoot some of his beams. His hair (which the young 
men of Greece used to wear very long) was stirred up and down - 
with the wind, which seemed to have a sport to play with it, as 
the sea had to kiss his feet ; himself full of admirable beauty, set 
forth by the strangeness both of his seat and gesture. For, 
holding his head up full of unmoved majesty he held a sword 
aloft with his fair arm, which often he waved about his crown, as 
though he would threaten the world in that extremity. But the 
fishermen, when they came so near him that it was time to throw 
out a rope by which hold they might draw him, their simplicity 
bred such amazement, and their amazement such superstition that 
(assuredly thinking it was some God begotten between Neptune 
and Venus that had made all this terrible slaughter), as they went 
under sail by him, held up their hands and made their prayers. 
Which when Musidorus saw, though he were almost as much 
ravished with joy as they with astonishment, he leaped to the 
mariner, and took the cord out of his hand, and (saying, " Dost 
thou live, and art thou well," who answered, " Thou canst tell best, 


since most of my well-being stands in thee") threw it out, but 
already the ship was passed beyond Pyrocles : and therefore 
Musidorus could do no more but persuade the mariners to cast 
about again, assuring them that he was but a man, although of 
most divine excellencies, and promising great rewards for their 

And now they were already come upon the stays ; when one 
of the sailors descried a galley which came with sails and oars 
directly in the chase of them ; and straight perceived it was a 
well-known pirate who hunted not only for goods but for bodies 
of men, which he employed either to be his galley-slaves or* 
to sell at the best market. Which when the matter understood, 
he commanded forthwith to set on all the canvass he could and fly 
homeward, leaving in that fort poor Pyrocles so near to be rescued. 
But what did not Musidorus say, what did he not offer to persuade 
them to venture to fight ; but fear standing at the gates of their 
ears, put back all persuasions : so that he had nothing whatever to 
accompany Pyrocles but his eyes, nought to succour him but his 
wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long look that 
way, he saw the galley leave the pursuit of them and turn to take 
up the spoils of the other wreck : and lastly he might well see 
them lift up the young man ; and " alas," said he to himself, " dear 
Pyrocles, shall that body of thine be enchained, shall those 
victorious hands of thine be commanded to base offices, shall 
virtue become a slave to those that be slaves to viciousness, alas, 
better had it been thou hadst ended nobly thy noble days : what 
death is so evil as unworthy servitude?" 

But that opinion soon ceased when he saw the galley setting 
upon another ship, which held long and strong fight with her : for 
then he began afresh to fear the life of his friend, and to wish well 
to the pirates whom before he hated, lest in their ruin he might 
perish. But the fishermen made such speed into the haven, that 
they absented his eyes from beholding the issue : where being 
entered, he could not procure neither them, or any other as 
then, to put themselves into the sea : so that being so full of 
sorrow for being unable to do anything as void of counsel how 
to do anything, besides that sickness grew something upon him, 
the honest shepherds Strephon and' Claius (who being themselves 
true friends did the more perfectly judge the justness of his 
sorrow) advise him that he should mitigate somewhat of his woe, 
since he had gotten an amendment in fortune, being come from 
assured persuasion of his death to have no cause to despair of his 
life ; as one that had lamented the death of his sheep should after 
know they were but strayed would receive pleasure, though readily 
he knew not where to find them. 

K I.] Arcadia 7 

Now, Sir," said they, " thus for ourselves it is ; we are in 
ession but shepherds, and in this country of Laconia little 
er than strangers, and therefore neither in skill nor ability of 
er greatly to stead you. But what we can present unto you is 
: Arcadia, of which country we are, is but a little way hence ; 
even upon the next confines there dwelleth a gentleman, by 
le Kalander, who vouchsafest much favour unto us : a man 
I for his hospitality is so much haunted that no news stir but 
les to his ears ; for his upright dealings so beloved of his 
fhbours, that he hath many ever ready to do him their 
rmost service ; and by the great goodwill our prince bears 
may soon obtain the use of his name and credit, which hath 
rincipal sway, not only in his own Arcadia, but in all these 
ntries of Peloponnesus : and (which is worth all) all these 
igs give him not so much power, as his nature gives him will 
lenefit : so that it seems no music is so sweet to his ears as 
srved thanks. To him we will bring you, and there you may 
)ver again your health, without which you cannot be able to 
ce any diligent search for your friend ; and therefore you must 
)ur for it. Besides, we are sure the comfort of courtesy and 
; of wise counsel shall not be wanting " 

lusidorus (who, besides he was merely unacquainted in the 
ntry, had his wits astonished with sorrow) gave easy consent 
hat from which he saw no reason to disagree : and therefore 
"raying the mariners with a ring bestowed upon them) they 
c their journey together through Laconia ; Claius and Strephon 
:ourse carrying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing in his 
ntenance evident marks of a sorrowful mind, supported with a 
k body ; which they perceiving, and knowing that the violence 
lorrow is not, at the first, to be striven withal (being like a 
hty beast, sooner tamed with following than overthrown by 
istanding), they gave way unto it, for that day and the next ; 
er troubling him, either with asking questions or finding fault 
1 his melancholy ; but rather fitting to his dolour, dolorous 
lourses of their own and other folks' misfortunes. Which 
sches, though they had not a lively entrance to his senses shut 
n sorrow, yet like one half asleep he took hold of much of the 
ter spoken unto him, for that a man may say, e'er sorrow was 
ire, they made his thoughts bear away something else beside 
own sorrow, which wrought so in him, that at length he grew 
tent to mark their speeches, then to marvel at such wit in 
pherds, after to like their company, and lastly to vouchsafe 
ference ; so that the third day after, in the time that the 
•ning did strew roses and violets in the heavenly floor against 
coming of the sun, the nightingales (striving one with the other 

8 ARCADIA tBooKi. 

which could in most dainty variety recount their wrong-caused 
sorrow) made them put off their sleep, and rising from under a 
tree (which that night had been their pavilion) they went on their 
journey, which by and by welcomed Musidorus's eyes (wearied 
with the wasted soil of Laconia) with delightful prospects. 

There were hills which garnished their proud heights with 
stately trees ; humble valleys whose base estate seemed comforted 
with the refreshing of silver rivers ; meadows, enamelled with all 
sorts of eye-pleasing flowers; thickets, which, being lined with 
most pleasant shade, were witnessed so too by the cheerful 
disposition of many well-tuned birds ; each pasture stored with 
sheep feeding with sober security, while the pretty lambs with 
bleating oratory craved the dams' comfort ; here a shepherd's 
boy piping, as though he should never be old ; there a young 
shepherdess knitting, and withal singing, and it seemed that 
her voice comforted her hands to work and her hands kept time to 
her voice-music. As for the houses of the country (for many houses 
came under their eye) they were all scattered, no two being one by 
the other, and yet not so far off as that it barred mutual succour : 
a show, as it were, of an accompanable solitariness and of a civil 
wildness. " I pray you," said Mufidorus, then first unsealing his 
long silent lips : '' what countries be these we pass through, which 
are so divers in show, the one wanting no store, the other having 
^ no store but of want ? " 

" The country," answered Claius, " where you were cast ashore 
and now are past through is Laconia, not so poor by the 
barrenness of the soil (though in itself not passing fertile) as by 
a civil war, which being these two years within the bowels of that 
estate, between the gentlemen and the peasants (by them named 
Helots), hath in this fort as it were disfigured the face of nature, 
and made it so unhospitable as now you have found it : the towns 
neither of the one side nor the other willingly opening their gates 
to strangers, nor strangers willingly entering for fear of being 

" But this country where how you set your foot is Arcadia : and 
even hard by is the house of Kalander, whither we lead you. This 
country being thus decked with peace and (the child of peace) 
good husbandry, these houses you see so scattered are of men, as 
we two are, that live upon the commodity of their sheep ; and 
therefore in the division of the Arcadian estate are termed shep- 
herds : a happy people, wanting little, because they desire not 

"What cause then," said Musidorus, "made you venture to leave 
this sweet life, and put yourself in yonder unpleasant and danger- 
ous realm?" "Guarded with poverty," answered Strephon, "and 


guided with love." " But now," said Claius, " since it hath pleased 
you to ask anything of us, whose baseness is such as the very 
knowledge is darkness, give us leave to know something of you, 
and of the young man you so much lament, that at least we may be 
the better instructed to inform Kalander, and he the better know 
how to proportion his entertainment." 

Musidorus, according to the agreement "between Pyrocles and 
him to alter their names answered that he called himself Palladius 
and his friend Daiphantus ; "but till J have him again," said he, 
" I am indeed nothing, and therefore my story is of nothing ; his 
entertainment (since so good a man he is) cannot be so low as I 
account my estate ; and in sum, the sum of all his courtesy may be 
to help me by some means to seek my friendj' 

They perceived he was not willing to open himself farther, and 
therefore without farther questioning brought him to the house ; 
about which they might see (with fit consideration both of the air, 
the prospect, and the nature of the ground) all such necessary 
additions to a great house as might well show Kalander knew that 
provision is the foundation of hospitality and thrift the fuel of 
magnificence. The house itself was built of fair and strong stone, 
not affecting so much any extraordinary kind of fineness as an. 
honourable representing of a firm stateliness. The lights, doors 
and stairs rather directed to the use of the guest than to the eye of 
the artificer ; and yet as the one chiefly heeded, so the other not 
neglected ; each place handsome without curiosity, and homely 
without loathsomeness ; not so dainty as not to be trod on, nor yet 
flubbered up with good fellowship ; all more lasting than beautiful, 
but that the consideration of the exceeding lastingness made the 
eye believe it was exceeding beautiful. The servants not so many 
in number as cleanly in apparel and serviceable in behaviour, 
testifying even in their countenances that their master took as well 
care to be served as of them that did serve. One of them was 
forthwith ready to welcome the shepherds as men whom though 
they were poor their master greatly favoured ; and understanding 
by them that the young man with them was to be much accounted 
of, for that they had seen tokens of more than common greatness, 
howsoever now eclipsed with fortune, he ran to his master, who 
came presently forth, and pleasantly welcoming the shepherds, but 
especially applying him to Musidorus, Strephon privately told him 
all what he knew of him, and particularly that he found this stranger 
was loth to be known. 

" No," said Kalander speaking aloud, " I am no herald to inquire 
of men's pedigrees ; it sufficeth me if I know their virtues ; which 
(if this young man's face be not a false witness) do better apparel 
his mind, than you have done his body." While he was thus 

to ARCADIA [book i. 

speaking, there came a boy in show like a merchant's prentice, 
who, taking Strephon by the sleeve delivered him a letter, written 
jointly both to him and Claius, from Urania, which they no sooner 
had read but that with short leave taking of Kalander (who quickly 
guessed and smiled at the matter) and once again (though hastily) 
recommending the young man unto* him, they went away, leaving 
Musidorus even loth to part with them, for the good conversation 
he had had of them and obligation he accounted himself tied in 
unto them : and therefore, they delivering his chest unto him, he 
opened it, and would have presented them with two very rich 
jewels, but they absolutely refused them, telling him that they were 
more than enough rewarded in the knowing of him, and without 
hearkening unto a reply (like men whose hearts disdained all 
desires but one) gat speedily away, as if the letter had brought 
wings to make them fly. But by that sight Kalander soon judged 
that his guest was of no mean calling ; and therefore the more 
respectfully entertaining him, Musidorus found his sickness (which 
the fight, the sea and late travel had laid upon him) grow greatly, 
so that, fearing some sudden accident, he delivered the chest to 
Kalander, which was full of most precious stones gorgeously and 
cunningly set in divers manners, desiring him he would keep those 
trifles, and if he died, he would bestow so much of it as was 
needful, to find out and redeem a young man, naming himself 
Daiphantus, as then in the hands of Laconian pirates. 

But Kalander seeing him faint more and more, with careful 
speed conveyed him to the most commodious lodging in his house, 
where being possessed with an extreme burning fever he continued 
some while with no great hope of life ; but youth at length got the 
victory of sickness, so that in six weeks the excellency of his 
returned beauty was a credible ambassador of his health, to the 
great joy of Kalander, who, as in his time he had by certain friends 
of his that dwelt near the sea in Missenia set forth a ship and a 
galley to seek and succour Daiphantus, so at home did he omit 
nothing which he thought migh either profit or gratify Palladius. 

For, having found in him (besides his bodily gifts beyond the 
degree of admiration) by daily discourses, which he delighted 
himself to have with him, a mind of most excellent composition, a 
piercing wit, quite void of ostentation, high erected thought seated 
in a heart of courtesy, an eloquence as sweet in the uttering as 
slow to come to the uttering, a behaviour so noble as gave a 
majesty to adversity ; and all in a man whose age could not be 
above one and twenty years ; the good old man was even enamoured 
with a fatherly love towards him, or rather became his servant by 
the bonds such virtue laid upon him ; once, he acknowledged 
himself so to be by the badge of diligent attendance. 

t i.l ARCADIA 11 

It Palladius having gotten his health, and only staying there 
! in place where he might hear answer of the ships set forth, 
nder one afternoon led him abroad to a well-arrayed ground 
ad behind his house, which he thought to show him before his 
g as the place himself more than in any other delighted in. 
backside of the house was neither field, garden nor orchard ; 
ither it was both field, garden and orchard : for as soon as 
lescending of the stairs had delivered them down, they came 
a place cunningly set with trees of the most taste-pleasing 
i ; but scarcely they had taken that into their consideration 
that they were suddenly stept into a delicate green ; of each 
of the green a thicket, and behind the thickets again new beds 
Dwers, which being under the trees the trees were to them a 
lion, and they to the trees a mosaical floor, so that it seemed 
Art therein would needs be delightful, by counterfeiting his 
ly Error and making order in confusion. 

the midst of all the place was a fair pond whose shaking 
:al was a perfect mirror to all the other beauties, so that it bare 
r of two gardens ; one in deed, the other in shadows. And in 
sf the thickets was a fine fountain made thus : a naked Venus 
liite marble, wherein the graver had used such cunning that the 
ral blue veins of the marble were framed in fit places to set 
, the beautiful veins of her body. At her breast she had her 
! .(Eneas, who seemed, having begun to suck, to leave that to 
upon her fair eyes, which smiled at the babe's folly, meanwhile 
)reast running. 

ard by was a house of pleasure built for a summer-retiring 
; ; whither Kalander leading him he found a square room full 
elightful pictures made by the most excellent workmen of 
ce. There was Diana when Actaeon saw her bathing ; in 
ie cheeks the painter had set such a colour as was mixed be- 
n sbame and disdain, and one of her foolish nymphs, who 
)ing, and withal lowering, one might see the workman meant to 
jrth tears of anger. In another table was Atalanta, the posture 
hose limbs was so lively expressed, that if the eyes were only 
es, as they be the only seers, one would have sworn the very 
ire had run. Besides many more, as of Helena, Omphale, 
: but in none of them all beauty seemed to speak so much as 
large table, which contained a comely old man, with a lady of 
Ue-age, but of excellent beauty, and more excellent would have 
1 deemed, but that there stood between a young maid, whose 
ierfulness took away all beauty from her, but that which it 
It seem she gave her back again by her very shadow. And 

difference (being known that it did indeed counterfeit a 
3n living) was there between her and all the other, though 


goddesses, that it seemed -the skill of the painter bestowed nothing 
on the other new beauty, but that the beauty of her bestowed new 
skiU on the painter. Though he thought inquisitiveness an 
uncomely guest he could not choose but ask who she was, that 
bearing show of one being indeed could with natural gifts go 
beyond the reach of invention. Kalander answered, that it was 
made by Philodea, the younger daughter of his prince, who also 
with his wife were contained in that table : the painter meaning to 
represent the present condition of the young lady, who stood 
watched by an over-curious eye of her parents ; and that he would 
also have drawn her eldest sister, esteemed her match for beauty, 
in her shepherdish attire, but that rude clown her guardian would 
not suffer it ; neither durst he ask leave of the prince, for fear of 
suspicion. Palladius perceived that the matter was wrapped up 
in some secrecy, and therefore would, for modesty, demand no 
farther ; but yet his countenance could not but with dum eloquence 
desire it. Which Kalander perceiving, " Well," said he, '' my dear 
guest, I know your mind, and I will satisfy it : neither will I do it 
like a niggardly answerer, going no farther than the bounds of the 
question ; but I will discover unto you as well that wherein my 
knowledge is common with others as that which by extraordinary 
means is delivered unto me ; knowing so much in you (though not 
long acquainted) that I shall find your ears faithful treasurers." 
So then sitting down in two chairs, and sometimes casting his eye 
to the picture, he thus spake : 

" This country Arcadia among all the provinces of Greece, hath 
ever been had in singular reputation ; partly for the sweetness of 
the air and other natural benefits, but principally for the well- 
tempered minds of the people who (finding that the shining title of 
glory, so much affected by other nations, doth indeed help little to 
the happiness of life) are the only people which, as by their justice 
and providence give neither cause nor hope to their neighbours to 
annoy, so are they not stirred with false praise to trouble others' 
quiet, thinking it a small reward for the wasting of their own lives 
in ravening, that their posterity should long after say they had done 
so. Even the muses seem to approve their good determination by 
choosing this country for their chief repairing place, and by 
bestowing their perfections so largely here that the very shepherds 
have their fancies lifted to so high conceits that the learned of 
other nations are content both to borrow their names and imitate 
their cunning. 

" Here dwelleth and reigneth this prince (whose picture you see) 
by name Basilius ; a prince of sufficient skill to govern so quiet a 
country, where the good minds of the former princes had set down 
good laws, and the well-bringing up of the people doth serve as a 


most sure bond to hold them. But to be plain with you, he excels 
in nothing so much as the zealous love of his people, wherein he 
doth not only pass all his own foregoers but, as I think, all the 
princes living. Whereof the cause is, that though he exceed not 
in the virtues which get admiration, as depth of wisdom, height of 
courage, and largness of magnificence, yet is he notable in those 
which stir affection, as truth of word, meekness, courtesy, merciful- 
ness, and liberality. 

" He, being already well stricken in years, married a young 
princess, named Gynecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of 
notable beauty, as by her picture you see : a woman of great wit, 
and in truth of more princely virtues than her husband ; of most 
unspotted chastity ; but of so working a mind and so vehement 
spirits that a man may say, it was happy she took a good course 
for otherwise it would have been terrible. 

"Of these two are brought into the world two daughters, so 
beyond measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable 
creatures that we may think they were born to show that nature is 
no stepmother to that sex, how much soever some men (sharp- 
witted only in evil speaking) have sought to disgrace them. The 
elder is named Pamela ; by many men not deemed inferior to her 
sister : for my part, when I marked them both, methought there 
was (if at least such perfections may receive the word of more) 
more sweetness in Philoclea but more majesty in Pamela : 
methought love played in Philoclea's eyes, and threatened in 
Pamela's ; methought Philoclea's beauty only persuaded, but so 
persuaded as all hearts must yield ; Pamela's beauty used violence, 
and such violence as no heart could resist. And it seems that such 
proportion is between their minds : Philoclea so bashful, as though 
her excellencies had stolen into her before she was aware ; so 
humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance ; in sum, 
such proceeding as will stir hope but teach hope good manners. 
Pamela of high thoughts who avoids not pride with not knowing 
her excellencies, but by making that one of her excellencies to be 
void of pride ; her mother's wisdom, greatness, nobility, but (if I 
can guess aright) knit with a more constant temper. Now then, 
our Basilius being so publicly happy as to be a prince, and so 
happy in that happiness as to be a beloved prince ; and so in his 
private estate blessed as to have so excellent a wife and so over- 
excellent children, hath of late taken a course which yet makes 
him more spoken of than all these blessings. For having made a 
journey to Delphos, and safely returned, within short space, he 
brake up his court, and retired himself, his wife and children, into 
a certain forest hereby which he called his desert ; wherein 
(besides an house appointed for stables and lodgings for certain 


persons of mean calling who do all household services) he hath 
builded two fine lodges : in the one of them himself remains with 
his younger daughter Philoclea (which was the cause they three 
were matched together in this picture) without having any other 
creature living in that lodge with him. 

" Which though it be strange, yet not strange as the course he 
hath taken with the princess Pamela whom he hath placed in the 
other lodge : but how think you accompanied ? Truly with none 
other but one Dametas, the most arrant doltish clown that I think 
ever was without the privilege of a bauble, with his wife Miso and 
daughter Mopsa, in whom no wit can devise anything wherein 
they may pleasure her but to exercise her patience and to serve 
for a foil of her perfections. This loutish clown is such that you 
never saw so ill-favoured a vizor ; his behaviour such that he is 
beyond the degree of ridiculous ; and for his apparel, even as I 
would with him : Miso his wife so handsome a beldam, that only 
her face and her splay-foot have made her accused for a witch ■ 
only one good point she hath, that she observes decorum, having' 
a forward mind in a wretched body. Between these two person- 
ages (who never agreed in any humour, but in disagreeing) is 
issued forth mistress Mopsa, a fit woman to participate of both 
their perfections : but because a pleasant fellow of my acquain- 
tance set forth her praises in verse, I will only repeat them, and 
spare mine own tongue, since she goes for a woman. The verses 
are these, which I have so often caused to be sung, that I have 
them without book. 

What length of verse can serve, brave Mopsa's good to show? 

When virtues strange, and beauties such, as no man them may 
know : 

Thus shrewdly burden'd then^ how can my muse escape ? 

The Gods must help, and precious things must serve, to shew 
her shape, 

Like great God Saturn fair, and like fair Venus chaste : 
As smooth as Pan, as Juno mild, like Goddess Iris fac't, 
With Cupid she forsees, and goes God Vulcan's pace : 
And for a taste of all these gifts, she steals God Momus' grace. 
Her forehead Jacinth-like, her cheeks of Opal hue, 
Her twinkling eyes bedeck'd with Pearl, her lips a Sapphire blue: 
Her hair like Crapal stone ; her mouth O heav'nly wide 1 
Her skin like burnished gold, her hands like silver ore untry'd. 
As for her parts unknown, which hidden sure are best : 
Happy be they which will believe, and never seek the rest. 
"Now truly having made these descriptions unto you, methinks 
you should imagme that I rather feign some pleasant device than 
recount a truth that a prince (not banished from his own wits) 
could possibly make so unworthy a choice. But truly (dear guest) 


so it is that princes (whose doings have been often smoothed with 
good success) think nothing so absurd, which they cannot make 
honourable. The beginning of his credit was by the prince's 
straying out of the way, one time he hunted, where meeting this 
fellow, and asking him the way; and so falling into other 
questions, he found some of his answers (as a dog sure, if he could 
speak, had wit enough to describe his kennel) not unsensible, and 
all uttered with such rudeness, which he interpreted plainness 
(though there be great difference between them) that Basilius, 
conceiving a sudden delight, took him to his court, with apparent 
show of his good opinion : where the flattering courtier had no 
sooner taken the prince's mind, but that there were straight 
reasons to confirm the prince's doing, and shadows of virtues 
found for Dametas. His silence grew wit, his bluntness integrity, 
his beastly ignorance virtuous simplicity, and the prince (according 
to the nature of great persons, in love with what he had done 
himself) fancied that his weakness with his presence would much 
be mended. And so like a creature of his own making, he 
hked him more and more ; and thus having first given him the 
office of principal herdsman ; lastly, since he took this strange 
determination, he hath in a manner put the life of himself and his 
children into his hands. Which authority (like too great a sail for 
so small a boat) doth so overway poor Dametas, that, if before he 
was a good fool in a chamber, he might be allowed it now in a 
comedy, so as I doubt me (I fear me indeed) my master will in the 
end (with his cost) find that his office is not to make men, but to 
use men as men are, no more than a horse will be taught to hunt, 
or an ass to manage. But in sooth I am afraid I have given your 
ears too great a surfeit with gross discourses of that heavy piece of 
flesh. But the zealous grief I conceive to see so great an error in 
my lord hath made me- bestow more words than I confess so base 
a subject deserveth. 

" This much now that I have told you is nothing more than in 
effect any Arcadian knows. But what moved him to this strange 
solitariness hath been imparted (as I think) but to one person 
living. Myself can conjecture, and indeed more than conjecture 
by this accident that I will tell you : I have an only son, by name 
CUtiphon, who is now absent, preparing for his own marriage, 
which I mean shortly shall be here celebrated. This son of mine 
(while the prince kept his court) was of his bed-chamber : now 
since the breaking up of thereof returned home, and showed me 
(among other things he had gathered) the copy which he had 
taken of a letter : which when the prince had read, he had laid in 
a window, presuming nobody durst look in his writings : but my 
son not only took a time to read it, but to copy it. In truth I 


blamed Clitiphon for the curiosity which made him break his duty 
in such a kind, whereby kings' secrets are subject to be revealed, 
but since it was done, I was content to take so much profit as to 
know it. Now here is the letter that I ever since, for my good 
liking, have carried about me : which before I read unto you, I 
must tell you from whom it came. It is a nobleman of his country, 
named Philanax, appointed by the prince regent, in this time of 
his retiring, and most worthy so to be : for, there lives no man 
whose excellent wit more simply embraceth integrity, beside his 
unfeigned love to his master, wherein never yet any could make 
question, saving whether he loved Basilius, or the prince better : 
a rare temper, while most men either servilely yield to all appetites, 
or with an obstinate austerity looking to that they fancied good, 
in effect neglect the prince's person. This then being the man, 
whom of all other (and most worthy) the prince chiefly loves, it 
should seem (for more than the letter I have not to guess by) that 
the prince upon his return from Delphos (Philanax then lying sick) 
had written unto him his determination, rising (as evidently 
appears) upon some oracle he had there received : whereunto he 
wrote this answer : 

Philanax's letter to Basilius. 
Most redoubted and beloved prince ! if as well it had pleased you 
at your going to Delphos, as now, to have used my humble service, 
both I should in better season^ and to better purpose have spoken ; 
and you (if my speech had prevailed) should have been at this time, 
as no way more in danger, so much more in quietness ? I would 
then have said that wisdom and virtue be the only destinies appointed 
to man to follow ; whence we ought to seek all our knowledge, since 
they be such guides as cannot fail ; which, besides their inward 
comfort, do lead so direct a way of proceeding, as either prosperity 
must ensue ; or, if the wickedness of the world should oppress it, it 
can never be said that evil happeneth to him who falls accompanied 
with virtue : I would then have said the heavenly powers ought to 
be reverenced and searched into, and their mercies rather by 
prayers to be fought than their hidden counsels by curiosity. These 
kinds of sooth-sayings (since they have left us in ourselves sufficient 
guides) be nothing but fancy, wherein there must either be vanity, 
or infallibleness, and so either not to be respected, or not to be pre- 
vented. But since it is weakness too much to remember what 
should have been done, and that your commandment stretched to 
know what is to be done, I do (most dear Lord !) with humble bold- 
ness say that the manner of your determination doth in no sort 
better please me than the cause of your going. These thirty years 
you have so governed this region, that neither your subjects have 
wanted justice in you, nor you obedience in them ; and your 
neighbours have found you so hurtlessly strong, that they thought it 


better to rest in your friendship, than to make new trial of your 
enmity. If this then have proceeded out of the good constitution of 
your state, and out of a wise providence generally to prevent all 
those things which might encumber your happiness^ why should you 
now seek new courses, since your own example comforts you to 
continue, and that it is to me most certain (though it please you not 
to tell me the very words of the oracle) that yet no destiny nor 
influence whatsoever can bring man's wit to a higher point than 
wisdom and goodness : why should you deprive yourself of govern- 
ment for fear of losing your gcvernmentj like one that should kill 
himself for fear of death ? Nay, rather, if this oracle be to be 
accounted of, arm up your courage the more against it : for who will 
stick to him that abandons himself : let yottf subjects have you in 
their eyes, let them see the benefits of your justica dailjf more and 
more, and so much they needs rather like of present sureties than 
uncertain changes. Lastly, whether your time call you to live or 
die, do both like a prince. Now for your second resolution, which 
is to suffer no worthy prince to be a, suitor to either of your 
daughters, but while you live to keep them both unmarried^ and, as 
it were, to kill the joy of posterity, which in your time you may 
enjoy, moved perchance by a misunderstood oracle? what shall I 
say, if the affection of a father to his own children cannot plead 
sufficiently against such fancies ? once, certain it is, the God which 
is God of nature doth never teach unnaturalness ; and even the same 
mind hold I touching your banishing them from company, lest I 
know not what strange loves should follow. Certainly, Sir, in my 
ladies, your daughters, nature promiseth nothing but goodness, and 
their education by your fatherly care hath been hitherto such as hath 
been most fit to restrain all evil, giving their minds virtuous delights, 
and not grieving them for want of well-ruled liberty. Now to fall 
to a sudden straightening them, what can it do but argue suspicion ? 
a thing no more unpleasant than unsure for the preserving of virtue. 
Leave women's minds the most untamed that way of any : see 
whether a cage can please a bird ; or whether a dog grow not 
fiercer with tying? what doth jealousy but stir up the mind to think 
what it is from which are restrained? for they are treasures or 
things of great delight, which men use to hide for the aptness they 
have to each man's fancy : and the thoughts once awaked to that, 
harder sure it is to keep those thoughts from accomplishment than 
had been before to have kept the mind (which being the chief part, 
by this means is defiled) from thinking. Lastly, for the recommend- 
ing of so principal a charge of the princess Pamela (whose mind 
goes beyond the governing of many, thousand such) to such a person 
as Dametas is (besides that the thing in itself is strange) it comes of 
a very ill ground that ignorance should be the mother of faithfulness ; 
Oh no, He cannot be good that knows not why he is good ; but stands 
So far good as his fortune may keep him unassayed ; but cominpf 
once to that, his rude simplicity is either easily changed, or easily 



deceived : and so grows that to be the last excuse of his fault, which 
seemed to have been the foundation of his faith. Thus far hath 
your commandment and my zeal drawn me ; which I, like a man in 
a valley that may discern hills, or like a poor passenger that may 
spie a rock, so humbly submit to your gracious consideration, 
beseeching you again to stand wholly upon your own virtue, as the 
surest way to maintain you in that you are, and to avoid any evil 
which may be imagined. 

" By the contents of this letter you may perceive, that the cause 
of all hath been the vanity which possesseth many who (making a 
perpetual mansion of this poor baiting-place of man's life) are 
desirous to know the certainty of things to come, wherein there is 
nothing so certain as our continual uncertainty. But what in 
particular points the oracle was, in faith I know not, neither (as 
you may see by one place of Philanax's letter) he himself distinctly 
knew. But this experience shews us that Basihus's judgment, 
corrupted with a prince's fortune, hath rather heard than followed 
the wise (as I take it) counsel of Philanax. For having left the 
stern of his government with much amazement to the people, 
among whom many strange bruits are received for current, with 
some appearance of danger in respect of the valiant Amphialus 
his nephew, and much envying the ambitious number of the 
nobihty against Philanax, to see Philanax so advanced, though (to 
speak simply) he deserve more than as many of us as there be in 
Arcadia : the prince himself hath hidden his head, in such sort as 
I told you, not sticking plainly to confess that he means not (while 
he breathes) that his daughters shall have any husband, but keep 
them thus solitary with him : where he gives no other body leave 
to visit him at any time but a certain priest, who being excellent 
in poetry, he makes him write out such things as he best likes, he 
being no less delightful in conversation than needful for devotion, 
and about twenty specified shepherds, in whom (some for eclogues) 
he taketh greater recreation. 

"And now you know as much as myself: wherein if I have held 
you over-long, lay hardly the fauh upon my old age, which in the 
very disposition of it is talkative, whether it be (said he smiling) 
that nature loves to exercise that part most, which is least decayed, 
and that is our tongue, or, that knowledge being the only thing 
whereof we poor old men can brag, we cannot make it known but 
by utterance : or, that mankind by all means seeking to eternize 
himself so much the more, as he is near his end, doth it not only 
by the children that come of him, but by speeches and writings 
recommended to the memory of hearers and readers. And yet 
thus much I will say for myself, that I have not laid these 
matters either so openly or largely to any as to yourself: so 


much (if I much fail not) do I see in you which makes me both 
love and trust you." 

"Never may he be old," answered Palladius, "that doth 
not reverence that age, whose heaviness, if it weigh down 
the frail and fleshly balance, it as much lifts up the noble 
and spiritual part ; and well might you have alleged another 
reason, that their wisdom makes them willing to profit others. 
And that have I received of you, never to be forgotten, but with 
ungratefulness. But among many strange conceits you told me, 
which have shewed effects in your prince, truly even the last, that 
he should conceive such pleasure in shepherds' discourses would 
not seem the least unto me, saving that you told me at the first 
that this country is notable in those wits, and that indeed myself 
having been brought not only to this place, but to my life by 
Strephon and Claius in their conference found wits as might better 
become such shepherds as Homer speaks of, that be governors of 
people, than such senators who hold their council in a sheep-cote." 

" For them two (said Kalander), especially Claius, they are beyond 
the rest by so much as learning commonly doth add to nature : 
for, having neglected their wealth in respect of their knowledge, 
they have not so much impaired the meaner, as they bettered the 
better. Which all notwithstanding, it is a sport to hear how they 
impute to love which hath indued their thoughts (say they) with such 
a strength. But certainly all the people of this country, from high to 
low, are given to those sports of the wit, so as you would wonder to 
hear how soon even children will begin to versify. Once, ordinary 
it is amongst the meanest sort, to make songs and dialogues in 
metre, either love whetting their brain, or long peace having 
begun it, example and emulation amending it. Not so much, but 
the clown Dametas will stumble sometimes upon some songs that 
might become a better brain : but no sort of people are so 
excellent in that kind as the pastors, for their living standing but 
upon the looking to their beasts, they have ease, the nurse of 
poetry. Neither are our shepherds such as (I hear) they be in 
other countries, but they are the very owners of the sheep, to 
which either themselves look, or their children give daily attend- 
ance. And then truly, it would delight you under some tree, or 
by some river's side (when two or three of them meet together) to 
hear their rural muse, how prettily it will deliver out, sometimes 
joys, sometimes lamentations, sometimes challengings one of the 
other, sometimes under hidden forms, uttering such matters as 
otherwise they durst not deal with. Then have they most 
commonly one who judgeth the prize to the best doer, of which 
they are no less glad than great princes are of triumphs : and his 
part is to set down in writing all that is said, save that it may be 


his pen with more leisure doth polish the rudeness of an un- 
thought-on song. Now the choice of all (as you may well think) 
either for goodness of voice, or pleasantness of wit, the prince 
hath : among whom also there are two or three strangers, who, 
inward melanchoUes having made weary of the world's eyes, have 
come to spend their lives among the country people of Arcadia, 
and their conversation being well approved, the prince vouchsafeth 
them his presence, and not only by looking on, but by great 
courtesy and liberality animates the shepherds the more exquisitely 
to labour for his good liking. So that there is no cause to blame 
the prince for sometimes hearing them ; the blame-worthiness is, 
that to hear them, he rather goes to solitariness than makes them 
come to company. Neither do I accuse my master for advancing 
a country-man, Dametas is, since God forbid, but where worthiness 
is as truly it is among divers of that fellowship, any outward low- 
ness should hinder the highest rising ; but that he would needs 
make election of one, the baseness of whose mind is such, that it 
sinks a thousand degrees lower than the basest body could carry 
the most base fortune : which although it might be answered for 
the prince, that it is rather a trust he hath in his simple plainness 
than any great advancement, but being chief herdman ; yet all 
honest hearts feel that the trust of their lord goes beyond all 
advancement. But I am ever too long upon him, when he 
crosseth the way of my speech, and by the shadow of yonder 
tower I see it is a fitter time with our supper to pay the duties we 
owe to our stomachs, than to break the air with my idle dis- 
courses : and more wit I might have learned of Homer (whom 
even now you mentioned) who never entertained either guests or 
hosts with long speeches, till the mouth of hunger be thoroughly 
stopped." So withal he rose, leading Palladius through the garden 
again to the parlour where they used to sup ; Palladius assuring 
him that he had already been more fed to his liking than he could 
be by the skilfuUest trencher-men of Medea. 

But being come to the supping-place, one of the Kalander's 
servants rounded in his ear, at which (his colour changing) he 
retired himself into his chamber, commanding his men diligently 
to wait upon Palladius, and to excuse his absence with some 
necessary business he had presently to dispatch : which they ac- 
cordingly did, for some few days forcing themselves to let no change 
appear: but, though they framed their countenances never so 
cunningly, Palladius perceived there was some ill-pleasing accident 
fallen out. Whereupon, being again set alone at supper, he 
called to the steward, and desired him to tell him the matter of 
his sudden alteration : who, after some trifling excuses, in the end 
confessed unto him that his master had received news that his 


son before the day of his near marriage, chanced to be at a battle 
which was to be fought between the gentlemen of Lacedasmon and 
the Helots ; who, winning the victory, he was there made prisoner 
going to deliver a friend of his taken prisoner by the Helots ; that 
the poor young gentlemen had offered great ransom for his life ; 
but that the hate those peasants conceived against all gentlemen 
was such that every hour he was to look for nothing but some 
cruel death, which hitherto had only been delayed by the captain's 
vehement dealing for him, who seemed to have a heart of more 
manly pity than the rest. Which loss had stricken the old gentle- 
man with such sorrow, that, as if abundance of tears did not 
seem sufficiently to witness it, he was alone retired, tearing his 
beard and hair, and cursing his old age, that had not made his 
grave to stop his ears from such advertisements : but that his 
faithful servants had written in his name to all his friends, followers, 
and tenants (Philanax the governor refusing to deal in it as a 
private cause, but yet giving leave to seek their best redress, so as 
they wronged jiot the state of Lacedaemon) of whom there were 
now gathered upon the frontiers good forces, that he was sure 
would spend their lives by any way to redeem or revenge 
Clitophon. " Now Sir," said he, " this is my master's nature, though 
his grief be such, as to live is a grief unto him, and that even his 
reason is darkened with sorrow ; yet the laws of hospitality (long 
and holily observed by him) gave still such a sway to his proceed- 
ing that he will no way suffer the stranger lodged under his roof to 
receive (as it were) any infection of his anguish, especially you, 
towards whom I know not whether his love or admiration be 
greater." But Paladius could scarce hear out his tale with 
patience, so was his heart torn in pieces with compassion of the 
case, liking of Kalander's noble behaviour, kindness for his respect 
to him-ward, and desire to find some remedy, besides the image 
of his dearest friend Daiphantus, whom he judged to suffer 
either alike or worse fortune. Therefore rising from the board, he 
desired the steward to tell him particularly the ground and event 
of this accide«it, because by knowledge of many circumstances, 
there might perhaps some way of help be opened. Whereunto 
the steward easily in this sort condescended. 

" My Lord," said he, " when our good king Basilius, with better 
success than expectation, took to wife (even in his more than 
decaying years) the fair young princess Gynecia, there came with 
her a young lord, cousin german to herself, named Argalus, led 
hither partly with the love and honour of his noble kinswoman, 
partly with the humour of youth, which ever thinks that good, 
whose goodness he sees not. And in this court he received so 
good increase of knowledge, that after some years spent, he so 


manifested a most virtuous mind in all his actions, that Arcadia 
gloried such a plant was transported unto them, being a gentleman 
indeed most rarely accomplished, excellently learned, but without all 
vain glory : friendly without factiousness ; valiant, so as for my part 
I think the earth hath no man that hath done more heroical acts 
than he ; howsoever now of late the fame flies of the two princes 
of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long done of our noble prince 
Amphialus, who indeed in our parts is only accounted likely to 
match him : but I say for my part, I think no man, for valour of 
mind, and ability of body, to be preferred, if equalled to Argalus ; 
and yet so valiant, as he never durst do anybody injury: in 
behaviour, some will say, ever sad, surely sober, and somewhat 
given to musing, but never uncourteous ; his word ever led by his 
thought, and always followed by his deed ; rather liberal than mag- 
nificent, though the one wanted not, and the other had ever good 
choice of the receiver ; in sum (for I perceive I shall easily take a 
great draught of his praises, whom both I and all this country love 
so well) such a man was (and I hope is) Argalus, as hardly the 
nicest eye can find a spot in, if the over vehement constancy of 
yet spotless affection may not in hard-wrested constructions be 
counted a spot : which in this manner began that work in him, 
which hath made both him, and itself in him, over all this country 
famous. My master's son Clitophon (whose loss gives the cause 
to this discourse, and yet gives me cause to begin with Argalus, 
since his loss proceeds from Argalus) being a young gentleman as 
of great birth (being our king's sister's son) so truly of good nature 
and one that can see good and love it, haunted more the company 
of this worthy Argalus, than of any other ; so as if there were not a 
friendship (which is so rare, as it is to be doubted whether it be a 
thing indeed, or but a word) at least there was such a liking and 
friendliness as hath brought forth the effects which you shall hear. 
About two years since, it so fell out that he brought him to a 
great lady's house, sister to my master, who had with her her only 
daughter, the fair Parthenia, fair indeed (fame, I think, itself not 
daring to call any fairer, if it be not Helena, queen of Corinth, and 
the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia) and that which made her 
fairness much the fairer was, that it was but a fair ambassador of a 
most fair mind ; full of wit, and a wit which delighted more to 
judge itself than to shew itself: her speech being as rare, as 
precious ; her silence without fullness ; her modesty without 
affectation ; her shamefacedness without ignorance : in sum, one 
that to praise well, one must first set down with himself what it is 
to be excellent : for so she is. 

" I think you think that these perfections meeting could not choose 
but find one another, and delight in what they found ; for likeness 


of manners is likely in reason to draw liking with affection ; men's 
actions do not always cross with reason ; to be short, it did so 
indeed. They loved, although for a while the fire thereof (hope's 
wings being cut off) were blown by the bellows of despair upon 
this occasion. 

"There had been a good while before, and so continued, a 
suitor to this same lady, a great noble man, though of Laconia, 
yet near neighbour to Parthenia's mother, named Demagoras ; 
a man mighty in riches and power, and proud thereof, stubbornly 
stout, loving nobody but himself, and, for his own delight's sake, 
Parthenia : and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches had so 
gilded over all his other imperfections that the old lady (though 
contrary to my lord her brother's mind) had given her consent ; 
and using a mother's authority upon her fair daughter had made 
her yield thereunto, not because she liked her choice, but because 
her obedient mind had not yet taken upon it to make choice. 
And the day of their assurance drew near, when my young lord 
Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchance principally to 
see so rare a sight, as Parthenia by all well-judging eyes was 

"But though few days were before the time of assurance 
appointed, yet love, that saw he had a great journey to make in 
short time, hasted so himself that before her word could tie her to 
Demagoras, her heart hath vowed her to Argalus with so grateful a 
receipt in mutual affection that if she desired above all things to 
have Argalus, Argalus feared nothing but to miss Parthenia. And 
now Parthenia had learned both liking and misliking, loving and 
loathing, and out of passion began to take the authority of judg- 
ment ; insomuch that when the time came that Demagoras (full of 
proud joy) thought to receive the gift of herself ; she, with words 
of resolute refusal (though with tears showing she was sorry she 
must refuse) assured her mother she would first be bedded in her 
grave than wedded to Demagoras. The change was no more 
strange than unpleasant to the mother who being determinately 
(lest I should say of a great lady, wilfully) bent to marry her to 
Demagoras, tried all ways, which a witty and hard-hearted mother 
could use upon so humble a daughter in whom the only resisting 
power was love. But the more she assaulted, the more she taught 
Parthenia to defend ; and the more Parthenia defended, the more 
she made her mother obstinate in the assault : who at length 
finding that Argalus standing between them, was it that most 
eclipsed her affection from shining upon Demagoras, she sought 
all means how to remove him, so much the more as he manifested 
himself an unremovable suitor to her daughter : first by employing 
him in as many dangerous enterprises as ever the evil step-mother 



Juno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his 
virtue was tried, the more pure it grew, while all the things she did 
to overthrow him, did set him up upon the height of honour; 
enough to have moved her heart, especially to a man every way 
so worthy as Argalus ; but the struggling against all reason, 
because she would have her will, and shew her authority in match- 
ing her with Demogoras, the more virtuous Argalus was the more 
she hated him, thinking herself conquered in his conquests, and 
therefore, still employing him in more and more dangerous 
attempts : in the meanwhile she used all extremities possible upon 
her fair daughter to make her give over herself to her direction. 
But it was hard to judge whether he in doing, or she in suffering, 
shewed greater constancy of affection : for, as to Argalus the 
world sooner wanted occasions than he valour to go through 
them : so to Parthenia malice sooner ceased than her unchanged 
patience. Lastly, by treasons Demagoras and she would have 
made away with Argalus, but he with providence and courage so 
past over all that the mother took such a spiteful grief at it that 
her heart brake withal, and she died. 

" But then Demagoras assuring himself that now Parthenia was 
her own she would never be his, and receiving as much by her own 
determinate answer, not more desiring his own happiness, than envy- 
ing Argalus, whom he saw with narrow eyes, even ready to enjoy 
the perfection of his desires, strengthening his conceit with all the 
mischievous counsels which disdained love and envious pride could 
give unto him, the wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was 
gone to his country to fetch some of his principal friends to honour 
the marriage, which Parthenia had most joyfully consented unto) 
the wicked Demagoras, I say, desiring to speak with her, with 
unmerciful force (her weak arms in vain resisting) rubbed all over 
her face a most horrible poison : the effect whereof was such, 
that never leper looked more ugly than she did : which done, 
having his men and horses ready, departed away in spite of her 
servants, as ready to revenge as could be, in such an unexpected 
mischief. But the abominableness of this fact being come to my 
L. Kalander, he made such means, both by our king's intercession 
and his own, that by the king and senate of Lacedsemon, 
Demagoras was, upon pain of death, banished the country : who 
hating the punishment, where he should have hated the fault, 
joined himself, with all the power he could make, unto the Helots, 
lately in rebellion against that state : and they (glad to have 
a man of such authority among them) made him their general, 
and under him have committed divers the most outrageous 
villanies that a base multitude (full of desperate revenge) can 


"But within a while after this pitiful fact committed upon 
Parthenia, Argalus returned (poor Gentleman !) having her fair 
image in his heart, and already promising his eyes the uttermost 
of his felicity when they (nobody else daring to tell it him) were 
the first messengers to themselves of their own misfortune. I 
mean not to move passion with telling you the grief of both, when 
he knew her, for at first he did not ; nor at first knowledge could 
possibly have virtue's aid so ready, as not even weakly to lament 
the loss of such a jewel, so much the more, as that skilful men 
in that art assured it was unrecoverable : but within a while, 
truth of love (which still held the first face in his memory) 
a virtuous constancy, and even a delight to be constant, faith 
given, and inward worthiness shining through the foulest mists, 
took so full hold of the noble Argalus, that not only in such 
comfort which witty arguments may bestow upon adversity, but 
even with the most abundant kindness that an eye-ravished lover 
can express, he laboured both to drive the extremity of sorrow 
from her, and to hasten the celebration of their marriage : where- 
unto he unfeignedly shewed himself no less cheerfully earnest than 
if she had never been disinherited of that goodly portion which 
nature had so liberally bequeathed unto her ; and for that cause 
deferred his intended revenge upon Demagoras, because he might 
continually be in her presence, shewing more humble serviceable- 
ness and joy to content her than ever before. 

" But as he gave this rare example, not to be hoped for of any 
other, but of another Argalus, so of the other side, she took as 
strange a course in affection : for where she desired to enjoy him 
more than to live yet did she overthrow both her own desire and 
his, and in no sort would yield to marry him : with a strange 
encounter of love's affects and effects ; that he by an affection 
sprung from excessive beauty should delight in horrible foulness ; 
and she of a vehement desire to have him should kindly build 
a resolution never to have him ; for truth it is, that so in heart she 
loved him, as she could not find in her heart he should be tied 
to what was unworthy of his presence. 

" Truly, Sir, a very good orator might have a fair field to use 
eloquence in, if he did but only repeat the lamentable, and truly 
affectionate speeches, while he conjured her by remembrance of 
her affection, and true oaths of his own affection, not to make him 
so unhappy, as to think he had not only lost her face, but her 
heart ; that her face, when it was fairest, had been but a marshal 
to lodge the love of her in his mind, which now was so well placed 
that it needed no further help of any outward harbinger ; beseech- 
ing her, even with tears, to know that his love was not so superficial 
as to go no further than the skin, which yet now to him was most 


fair since it was hers : how could he be so ungrateful as to love 
her the less for that which she had only received for his sake ; 
that he never beheld it, but therein he saw the loveliness of her 
love towards him ; protesting unto her that he would never take 
joy of his life if he might not enjoy her, for whom principally he 
was glad he had life. But (as I heard by one that overheard them) 
she (wringing him by the hand) made no other answer but this. 
' My Lord,' said she, ' God knows I love you ; if I were princess 
of the whole world, and had, withal, all the blessings that ever the 
world brought forth, I should not make delay to lay myself and 
them under your feet ; or if I had continued but as I was, though 
(I must confess) far unworthy of you, yet would I (with too great 
a joy for my heart now to think of) have accepted your vouchsafing 
me to be yours, and with faith and obedience would have supplied 
all other defects. But first let me be much more miserable than 
I am e'er I match Argalus to such a Parthenia. Live happy, dear 
Argalus, I give you full liberty, and I beseech you to take it ; and 
I assure you I shall rejoice (whatsoever become of me) to see you 
so coupled, as may be fit both for your honour and satisfaction.' 
With that she burst out crying and weeping, not able longer to 
to control herself from blaming her fortune, and wishing hei 
own death. 

" But Argalus, with a most heavy heart still pursuing his desire, 
she fixed of mind to avoid further intreaty, and to fly all company 
which (even of him) grew unpleasant unto her, one night she 
stole away : but whither as yet it is unknown or indeed what is 
become of her. 

" Argalus sought her long, and in many places ; at length 
(despairing to find her, and the more he despaired, the more en- 
raged) weary of his life, but first determining to be revenged of 
Demagoras, he went alone disguised into the chief town held by 
the Helots, where coming into his presence, guarded about by 
many of his soldiers, he could delay his fury no longer for 
a fitter time, but setting upon him, in despite of a great many 
that helped him, gave him divers mortal wounds, and himself 
(no question) had been there presently murdered, but that 
Demagoras himself desired he might be kept alive : perchance 
with intention to feed his own eyes with some cruel execution to 
be laid upon him ; but death came sooner than he looked for ; 
yet having had leisure to appoint his successor, a young man, not 
long before delivered out of the prison of the king of Lacedaemon, 
where he should have suffered death for having slain the king's 
nephew, but him he named, who at that time was absent, making 
inroads upon the Lacedasmonians ; but being returned, the rest of 
the Helots, for the great liking they conceived of that young man, 


especially because they had none among themselves to whom the 
others would yield, were content to follow Demagoras's appoint- 
ment. And well hath it succeeded with them, he having since 
done things beyond the hope of the youngest heads ; of whom 
I speak the rather, because he hath hitherto preserved Argalus 
alive, under pretence to have him publicly, and with exquisite 
torments executed after the end of these wars, of which they hope 
for a soon and prosperous issue. 

" And he hath likewise hitherto kept my young lord Clitophon 
alive, who (to redeem his friend) went with certain other noble 
men of Laconia, and forces gathered by them, to besiege this 
young and new successor : but he issuing out (to the wonder of all 
men) defeated the Laconians, slew many of the noblemen, and 
took Clitophon prisoner, whom with much ado he keepeth alive, 
the Helots being villainously cruel ; but he tempereth them so, 
sometimes by following their humour, sometimes by striving with 
it, that hitherto he hath saved both their lives, but in different 
estates ; Argalus being kept in a close and hard prison, Clitophon 
at some liberty. And now. Sir, though (to say the truth) we can 
promise ourselves little of their safeties while they are in the 
Helots' hands, I have delivered all I understand touching the loss 
of my lord's son, and the cause thereof : which though it was not 
necessary to Clitophon's case, to be so particularly told, yet the 
strangeness of it made me think it would not be unpleasant unto 

Palladius thanked him greatly for it, being even passionately 
delighted with hearing so strange an accident of a knight so famous 
over the the world as Argalus, with whom he had himself a long 
desire to meet : so had fame poured a noble emulation in him 
towards him. 

But then (well bethinking himself) he called for armour, desiring 
them to provide him of horse and guide, and armed all saving the 
head, he went up to Kalander, whom he found lying upon the 
ground, having ever since banished both sleep and food as enemies 
to the mourning, which passion persuaded him was reasonable. 
But Palladius raised him up, saying unto him : " No more, no 
more of this my L. Kalander ; let us labour to find, before we 
lament the loss : you know myself miss one, who though he be 
not my son, I would disdain the favour of life after him : but while 
there is a hope left, let not the weakness of sorrow make the 
strength of it languish : take comfort, and good success will 
follow." And with those words, comfort seemed to lighten in his 
eyes, and in his face and gesture was painted victory. Once, 
Kalander's spirits were so revived withal, that (receiving some 
sustenance, and taking a little rest) he armed himself and those 

28 ARCADIA Tbook i. 

few of his servants he had left unsent, and so himself guided 
Palladius to the place upon the frontiers, where already there were 
assembled between three and four thousand men, all well disposed 
(for Kalander-s sake) to abide any peril : but like men disused 
with a long peace, more determinate to do than skilful how to do : 
lusty bodies, and braver armours ; with such courage as rather 
grew of despising their enemies, whom they knew not, than of any 
confidence for anything which in themselves they knew: but 
neither cunning use of their weapons, nor art showed in their 
marching or encamping. Which Palladius soon perceiving, he 
desired to understand (as much as could be delivered unto him) 
the estate of the Helots. 

And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the affairs 
of Laconia, that they were a kind of people who, having been of 
old freemen and possessioners, the Lacedaemonians had conquered 
them, and laid not only tribute, but bondage upon them, which 
they had long borne, till of late the Lacedaemonians, through 
greediness growing more heavy than they could bear, and through 
contempt growing less careful how to make them bear, they had 
with a general consent (rather springing by the generalness of 
the cause than of any artificial practice) set themselves in arms, 
and whetttng their courage with revenge, and grounding their 
resolution upon despair, they had proceeded with unlooked for 
success, having already taken divers towns and castles, with the 
slaughter of many of the gentry : for whom no sex nor age could 
be accepted for an excuse. And that although at the first they had 
fought rather with beastly fury than any soldiery discipline, 
practice had now made them comparable to the best of the 
Lacedaemonians, and more of late than ever ; by reason, first of 
Demagoras, a great lord, who had made himself of their party, and 
since his death, of another captain they had gotten, who had 
brought up their ignorance, and brought down their fury to such 
a mean of good government, and withal led them so valorously 
that (besides the time wherein Clitophon was taken) they had the 
better in some other great conflicts : in such wise that the estate 
of Lacedaemon had sent unto them, oflfering peace with most 
reasonable and honourable conditions. Palladius having gotten 
this general knowledge of the party against whom, as he 
had already of the party for whom he was to fight, he went to 
Kalander, and told him plainly that by plain force there was small 
appearance of helping Clitophon ; but some device was to be 
taken in hand, wherein no less discretion than valour was to 
be used. 

Whereupon, the counsel of the chief men was called, and at last 
this way Palladius (who by some experience, but especially by 


reading histories, was acquainted with stratagems) invented, and 
was by all the rest approved, that all the men there should dress 
themselves like the poorest sort of the people in Arcadia, having 
no banners, but bloody shirts hanged upon long staves, with some 
bad bag-pipes instead of drum and fife : their armour they should, 
as well as might be, cover, or at least make them look so rustily 
and ill-favouredly as might well become such wearers, and this the 
whole number should do, saving two hundred of the best chosen 
gentlemen for courage and strength, whereof Palladius himself 
would be one, who should have their arms chained, and be put in 
carts like prisoners. This being performed according to the 
agreement, they marched on towards the town of Cardaraila where 
Clitophon was captive ; and being come two hours before sunset 
within view of the walls, the Helots already descrying their 
number, and beginning to sound the alarm, they sent a cunning 
fellow (so much the cunninger as that he could mask it under 
rudeness) who with such a kind of rhetoric as weeded out all 
flowers of rhetoric, delivered unto the Helots assembled together, 
that they were country-people of Arcadia, no less oppressed by 
their lords, and no less desirous of liberty than they, and therefore 
had put themselves in the field, and had already (besides a great 
number slain) taken nine or ten score gentlemen prisoners, whom 
they had there well and fast chained. Now because they had no 
strong retiring place in Arcadia, and were not yet of number 
enough to keep the field against the prince's forces, they were 
come to them for succour ; knowing that daily more and more 
of their quality would flock unto them, but that in the mean- 
time, lest their prince should pursue them, or the Lacedaemonian 
king and nobility (for the likeness of the cause) fall upon them, 
they desired that if there were not room enough for them in the 
town, that yet they might encamp under the walls, and for surety 
have their prisoners (who were such men as were able to make 
their peace) kept within the town. 

The Helots made but a short consultation, being glad that their 
contagion had spread itself into Arcadia, and making account that 
if the peace did not fall out between them and their king, that it 
was the best way to set fire in the all parts of Greece ; besides 
their greediness to have so many gentlemen in their hands, in 
whose ransoms they already meant to have a share ; to which 
haste of concluding, two things well helped ; the one, that their 
captain, with the wisest of them, was at that time absent about 
confirming or breaking the peace with the state of Lacedamon : 
the second, that over-many good fortunes began to breed a proud 
recklessness* in them ; therefore sending to view the camp, and 
* ue. Carelessness. See Spencer. 



finding that by their speech they were Arcadians, with whom they 
had had no war, never suspecting a private man's credit could 
have gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed 
them to be of the lowest calling (besides the chains upon the 
gentlemen) they granted not only leave for the prisoners, but for 
some others of the company, and to all, that they might harbour 
under the walls. So opened they the gates, and received in the 
carts, which being done, and Palladius seeing fit time, he gave the 
sign, and shaking off their chains (which were made with such art, 
that though they seemed most strong and fast, he that wore them 
might easily loose them) drew their swords hidden in the carts, 
and so setting upon the ward, made them to fly either from the 
place, or from their bodies, and so give entry to all the force of the 
Arcadians before the Helots could make any head to resist them. 

But the Helots, being men hardened against dangers, gathered 
(as well as they could) together in the market-place, and thence 
would have given a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that 
Palladius (blaming those that were slow, heartening them that 
were forward, but especially with his own example leading them) 
made such an impression into the squadron of the Helots that at 
first the great body of them beginning to shake and stagger, at 
length every particular body recommended the protection of his 
life to his feet. Then Kalander cried to go to the prison where he 
thought his son was ; but Palladius wished him (first scouring the 
streets) to house all the Helots, and make themselves masters of 
the gates. 

But e'er that could be accomphshed,, the Helots had gotten new 
heart, and with divers sorts of shot from corners of streets and 
house-windows, galled them ; which courage was come unto them 
by the return of their captain ; who, though he brought not many 
with him (having dispersed most of his companies to other of his 
holds) yet meeting a great number running out of the gate, not yet 
possessed by the Arcadians, he made them turn face, and with 
banners displayed, his trumpet giveth the loudest testimony he 
could of his return ; which once heard, the rest of the Helots, 
which were otherwise scattered, bent thitherward with a new life 
of resolution, as if their captain had been a root, out of which (as 
into branches) their courage had sprung. Then began the fight 
to grow most sharp, and the encounters of more cruel obstinacy : 
the Arcadians fighting to keep what they had won ; the Helots 
to recover what they had lost ; the Arcadians as in an unknown 
place, having no succour but in their hands ; the Helots as in their 
own place, fighting for their lives, wives, and children. There was 
victory and courage against revenge and despair ; safety of both 
besides being no otherwise to be gotten, but by destruction. 


At length, the left wing of the Arcadians began to lose ground ; 
which Palladius feeling, he straight thrust himself with his choice 
band against the throng that oppressed them with such an over- 
flowing of valour that the captain of the Helots (whose eyes soon 
judged of that wherewith themselves were governed) saw that he 
alone was worth all the rest of the Arcadians : which he so 
wondered at, that it was hard to say whether he more liked his 
doings, or misliked the effects of his doings : but determining that 
upon that cast the game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, 
fought only to join with him : which mind was no less in Palladius, 
having easily marked that he was the first mover of all the other 
hands. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented 
(though not agreed) to try each other's fortune : and so drawing 
themselves to be the uttermost of the one side, they began a 
combat, which was so much inferior to the battle in noise and 
number, as it was surpassing it in bravery of fighing, and, as it 
were, delightful terribleness. Their courage was guided with skill, 
and their skill was armed with courage ; neither did their hardiness 
darken their wit, nor their wit cool their hardiness : both valiant, 
as men despising death, both confident, as unwonted to be over- 
come : yet doubtful by their present feehng, and respectful by what 
they had already seen. Their feet steady, their hands diligent, 
their eyes watchful, and their hearts resolute. The parts either 
not armed, or weakly armed, were well known, and according to 
the knowledge should have been sharply visited, but that the 
answer was as quick as the objections. Yet some lightning, the 
smart bred rage, and the rage bred smart again : till both sides 
beginning to wax faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, 
than hopeful to live victorious, the captain of the Helots with a 
blow, whose violence grew of fury, not of strength, or of strength 
proceeding of fury, struck Palladius upon the side of the head, that 
he reeled astonished : and withal the helmet fell off, he remaining 
bare-headed, but other of the Arcadians were ready to shield him 
from any harm might rise of that nakedness. 

But little needed it, for his chief enemy, instead of pursuing that 
advantage, kneeled down, offering to deliver the pommel of his 
sword, in token of yielding ; withal speaking aloud unto him, that 
he thought it more liberty to be his prisoner, than any others 
general. Palladius standing upon himself, and misdoubting some 
craft, and the Helots that were next their captain, wavering between 
looking for same stratagem, or fearing treason ; " What," said the 
captain, "hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?" 

By that watch-word Palladius knew that it was his only friend 
Pyrocles, whom he had lost upon the sea, and therefore both most 
full of wonder so to be met, if they had not been -fuller of joy than 



wonder, caused the retreat to be sounded, Diaphantus by authority, 
and Palladius by persuasion, to which helped well the little 
advantage that was of either side : and that of the Helot's party, 
their captain's behaviour had made as many amazed as saw or 
heard of it : and of the Arcadian side the good old Kalander, 
striving more than his old age could achieve, was newly taken 
prisoner. But indeed the chief parter of the fray was the night, 
which with her black arms pulled their malicious sights one from 
the other. But he that took Kalander, meant nothing less than to 
save him, but only so long, as the captain might learn the enemies' 
secrets, towards whom he led the old gentleman, when he caused 
the retreat to be sounded ; looking for no other delivery from that 
captivity, but by the painful taking away of all pain : when whom 
should he see next to the captain (with good tokens how valiantly 
he had fought that day against the Arcadians) but his son 
Clitophon ? But now the captain had caused all the principal 
Helots to be assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do, 
as to receive a message from the Arcadians, among whom 
Palladius's virtue (besides the love Kalander bare him) having 
gotten principal authority, he had persuaded them to seek rather 
by parley to recover the father and the son, than by the sword ; 
since the goodness of the captain assured him that way to speed, 
and his value (wherewith he was of old acquainted) made him 
think any other way dangerous. This therefore was done in 
orderly manner, giving them to understand that as they came but 
to deliver Clitophon, so offering to leave the footing they already 
had in the town, to go away without any farther hurt, so that they 
might have the father and the son without ransom delivered. 
Which conditions being heard and conceived by the Helots, 
Diaphantus persuaded them without delay to accept them. " For 
first," said he, " since the strife is within our own home, if you lose, 
you lose all that in this life can be dear unto you : if you win, it 
will be a bloody victory with no profit, but the flattering in our- 
selves that same bad humour of revenge. Besides, it is like to stir 
Arcadia upon us, which now, by using these persons well, may be 
brought to some amity. Lastly, but especially, lest the king and 
nobility of Laconia (with whom now we have made a perfect peace) 
should hope by occasion of this quarrel to join the Arcadians with 
them, and so break off the profitable agreement already concluded : 
in sum, as in all deliberations (weighing the profit of the good 
success with the harm of the evil success) you shall find this way 
most safe and honourable." 

The Helots, as much moved by his authority, as persuaded by 
his reasons, were content therewith. Whereupon Palladius took 
order that the Arcadians should presently march out of town, 

fiooK I.] ARCADIA 33 

taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutual 
diffidence might keep them quiet, and e'er day came, they might 
be well on their way, and so avoid those accidents which in late 
enemies, a look, a word, or a particular man's quarrel might en- 
gender. This being on both sides concluded on, Kalander and 
Clitophon, who now with infinite joy did know each other, came to 
kiss the hands and feet of Daiphantus : Clitophon telling his 
father how Daiphantus, not without danger to himself, had pre- 
served him from the furious malice of the Helots : and even that 
day going to conclude the peace (lest in his absence he might 
receive some hurt) he had taken him in his company, and given 
him armour, upon promise he should take the part of the Helots ; 
which he had in this fight performed, little knowing that it was 
'against his own father ; " But," said Clitophon, "here is he, who 
as a father, hath now begotten me, and, as a god, hath saved me 
from many deaths which already laid hold on me : which Kalander 
with tears of joy acknowledged, besides his own deliverance, only 
his benefit. But Daiphantus, who loved doing well for itself and 
not for thanks, broke off those ceremonies, desiring to know how 
Palladius, for so he called Musidorus, was come into that company, 
and what his present estate was ; whereof receiving a brief declara- 
tion of Kalandar, he sent him word by CUtophon that he should 
not as now come unto him, because he held himself not so sure 
a master of the Helots' minds that he would adventure him in 
their power, who was so well known with an unfriendly acquaint- 
ance ; but that he desired him to return with Kalander, whither 
also he within few days, having dispatched himself of the Helots 
would repair. Kalander would needs kiss his hand again for that 
promise, protesting he would esteem his house more blessed than, 
a temple of the gods, if it had once received him. And then 
desiring pardon for Argalus, Diaphantus assured them that he 
would die but he would bring him (though till then kept in close 
prison, indeed for his safety, the Helots being so animated against 
him as else he could not have lived) and so taking their leave of 
him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius, and the rest of the Arcadians 
swearing that they would no further in any sort molest the Helots, 
they straightway marched out of the town, carrying both their 
dead and wounded bodies with them ; and by morning were 
already within the limits of Arcadia. 

The Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gave them- 
selves to bury their dead, to cure their wounds, and rest their 
wearied bodies ; till (the next day bestowing the cheerful use of 
the light upon them) Daiphantus, making a general convocation 
spake unto them in this manner : " We are first," said he, " to 
thank the gods, that (farther than we had either cause to hope,^ 


34 ARCADIA [book i. 

or reason to imagine) have delivered us out of this gulf of danger, 
wherein we were already swallowed. For all being lost (had they 
not directed my return so just as they did), it had been too late 
to recover that, which being had, we could not keep. And had 
I not happened to know one of the principal men among them, 
by which means the truce began between us, you may easily 
conceive what little reason we have to think but that either by 
some supply out of Arcadia, or from the nobility of this country, 
(who would have made fruits of wisdom grow out of this occasion) 
we should have had our power turned to ruin, our pride to repent- 
ance and sorrow. But now, the storm as it fell, 30 it ceased : and 
the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more hardly than his 
age or quarrel deserved, becomes a sharply learned experience, 
to use, in other times, more moderation. 

" Now have I to deliver unto you the conclusion between the 
kings with the nobility of Lacedssmon and you ; which is in all 
points as ourselves desired ; as well for that you would have 
granted, as for the assurance of what is granted. The towns and 
forts you presently have, are still left unto you, to be kept either 
with, or without garrison, so as you alter not the laws of the 
country, and pay such duties as the rest of the Laconians do ; 
yourselves are made, by public decree, freemen, and so capable 
both to give and receive voice in election of magistrates. The 
distinction of names between Helots and Lacedaemonians to be 
quite taken away, and all indifferently to enjoy both names and 
privileges of Laconians. Your children to be brought up with 
theirs in the Spartan discipline : and so you (framing yourselves 
to be good members of that estate) to be hereafter fellows and no 
longer servants. 

" Which conditions you see, carry in themselves no more con- 
tention than assurance ; for this is not a peace which is made with 
thera ; but this a piece by which you are made of them. Lastly 
a forgetfulness decreed of all what is past, they showing themselves 
glad to have so valiant men as you are joined with them, so that 
you are to take minds of peace, since the cause of war is finished ; 
and as you hated them before like oppressors, so now to love them 
as brothers ; to take care of their estate, because it is yours ; and 
to labour by virtuous doing, that posterity may not repent your 
joining. But now one article only they stood upon, which in the 
end I with your commissioners have agreed unto that I should no 
more tarry here, mistaking perchance my humour, and thinking 
me as seditious as I am young ; or else it is the king Amiclas 
procuring, in respect that it was my ill hap to kill his nephew 
Eurileon, but howsoever it be, I have condescended." "But so 
will not we," cried almost the whole assembly, counselling one 

*ooK i.i ARCAt>tA $S 

another rather to try the uttermost event than lose him by whom 
they had been victorious. But he as well with general orations 
as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them 
see how necessary it was to prefer such an opportunity before 
a vain affection ; but could not prevail till openly he sware that 
he would (if at any time the Lacedemonians brake this treaty) 
come back again, and be their captain. 

So, then, after a few days, setting them in perfect order, he took 
his leave of them, whose eyes bade him farewell with tears, and 
mouths with kissing the places where he stepped, and after 
making temples unto him, as to a demi-god, thinking it beyond 
the degree of humanity to have a wit so far over-going his age, 
and such dreadful terror proceed from so excellent beauty. But 
he for his sake obtained free pardon for Argalus, whom also 
(upon oach never to bear arms against the Helots) he delivered ; 
and taking only with him certain principal jewels of his own, he 
would have parted alone with Argalus (whose countenance well 
showed, while Parthenia was lost, he counted not himself delivered, 
but that the whole multitude would needs guard hirai into Arcadia, 
where again leaving them all to lament his departure, he by 
enquiry got to the well-known house of Kalander. There was he 
received with loving joy of Kalander, with joyful love of Palladius, 
with humble, though doleful, demeanour of Argalus (whom 
specially both he and Palladius regarded with grateful serviceable- 
ness of Clitophon) and honourable admiration of all. For being 
now well viewed to have no hair on the face, to witness him a man, 
who had done acts beyond the degree of a man, and to look with 
a certain almost bashful kind of modesty, as if he feared the eyes 
of men, who was unmoved by the sight of the most horrible 
countenances of death ; and as if nature had mistaken her work to 
have a Mars's heart in a Cupid's body : all that beheld him (and 
all that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes quick 
messengers to their mind, that there they had seen the uttermost 
that in mankind might be seen. The like wonder Palladius had 
before stirred, but that Diaphantus, as younger and newer come, 
had gotten now the advantage in the moist and fickle impression 
of eye-sight. But while all men, saving poor Argalus, made the 
joy of their eyes speak for their hearts towards Daiphantus ; 
fortune (that belike was bid to that banquet, and meant to play 
the good-fellow) brought a pleasant adventure among them. It 
was that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander 
a messenger, that brought him word, a young noble lady, near 
kinswoman to the fair Helen, queen of Corinth, was come thither, 
and desired to be lodged in his house. Kalander (most glad of 
such an occasion) went out, and all his other worthy guests with 

36 ARCADIA [book i. 

him, saving only Argalus, who remained in his chamber, desirous 
that this company were once broken up, that he might go in his 
solitary quest after Parthenia. But when they met this lady, 
Kalander straight thought he saw his niece Parthenia, and was 
about in such familiar sort to have spoken unto her, but she, in 
grave and honourable manner, giving him to understand that he 
was mistaken ; he, half ashamed, excused himself with the ex- 
ceeding likeness was between them, though indeed it seemed that 
this lady was of the more pure and dainty complexion, she said, 
it might very well be, having been many times taken one for 
another. But as soon as she was brought into the house, before 
she would rest her, she desired to speak with Argalus publicly, 
who she heard was in the house. Argalus came hastily, and as 
hastily thought as Kalander had done, with sudden change of 
to sorrow. But she, when she had stayed her thoughts with telling 
them her name and quality, in this sort spake unto him. "My 
Lord Argalus," said she, " being of late left in the court of queen 
Helen of Corinth, as chief in her absence, she being upon some 
occasion gone thence, there came unto me the lady Parthenia, 
so disfigured, as I think Greece hath nothing so ugly to behold, 
For my part, it was many days, before, with vehement oathsi 
and some good proofs, she could make me think that she was 
Parthenia. Yet at last finding certainly it was she, and greatly 
pitying her misfortune, so much the more as that all men had even 
told me, as now you do, of the great likeness between us, I took 
the best care I could of her, and of her understood the whole 
tragical history of her undeserved adventure : and therewithal of 
that most noble constancy in you my lord Argalus, which whoso- 
ever loves not, shows himself to be a hater of virtue, and unworthy 
to live in the society of mankind. But no outward cherishing 
could salve the inward sore of her mind ; but a few days since she 
died ; before her death earnestly desiring, and persuading me to 
think of no husband but of you, as of the only man in the world 
worthy to be loved. Withal she gave me this ring to deliver you, 
desiring you, and by the authority of love commanding you 
that the affection you bare her, you should turn to me ; assuring 
you, that nothing can please her soul more than to see you and 
me matched together. Now my lord, though this office be not. 
perchance, suitable to my estate nor sex, who should rather look 
to be desired; yet, an extraordinary desert requires an extra- 
ordinary proceeding, and therefore I am come, with faithful love 
built upon your worthiness, to offer myself, and to beseech you 
to accept the offer : and if these noble gentlemen present will 
say it is great folly, let them withal say, it is great love." And 
then she stayed, earnestly attending ArgaluS's answer ; who, first 


making most hearty sighs, doing such obsequies as he could to 
Parthenia, thus answered her. 

" Madame," said he, " infinitely am I bound to you, for this 
no more rare than noble courtesy ; but much bound for the 
goodness I perceive you showed to the lady Parthenia (with that 
the tears ran down his eyes, but he followed on) and as much as 
so unfortunate a man, fit to be the spectacle of misery, can do you 
a service ; determine you have made a purchase of a slave, while I 
live, never to fail you. But this great matter you propose unto 
me, wherein I am not so bhnd as not to see what happiness it 
should be unto me, excellent lady, know that if my heart were 
mine to give, you before all others should have it ; but Parthenia's 
it is, though dead : there I began, there I end all matter of 
affection : I hope I shall not long tarry after her, with whose 
beauty if I only had been in love, I should be so with you, who 
have the same beauty ; but it was Parthenia's self I loved, and 
love, which no likeness can make one, no commandment dissolve, 
no foulness defile, nor no death finish." "And shall I receive," 
said she, "such disgrace as to be refused?" "Noble lady," said 
he, " let not that hard word be used ; who know your exceeding 
worthiness far beyond my desert? but it is only happiness I 
refuse, since of the only happiness I could and can desire, I am 

He had scarce spoken those words, when she ran to him 
and embracing him, "Why then Argalus," said she, "take thy 
Parthenia : " and Parthenia it was indeed. But because sorrow 
forbade him too soon to beUeve, she told him the truth, with all 
circumstances : how being parted alone, meaning to die in some 
solitary place, as she happened to make her complaint, the queen 
Helen of Corinth (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being 
then walking alone in that lovely place, heard her, and never left, 
till she had known the whole discourse. Which the noble queen 
greatly pitying, she sent to her a physician of hers, the most 
excellent man in the world, in hope he could help her : which in 
such sort as they saw he had performed, and the taking with her 
one of the queen's servants, thought yet to make this trial, whether 
he would quickly forget his true Parthenia, or no. Her speech 
was confirmed by the Corinthian gentlemen, who before had kept 
her counsel, and Argalus easily persuaded to what more than ten 
thousand years of life he desired : and Kalander would needs have 
the marriage celebrated in his house, principally the longer to hold 
his dear guest, towards whom he was now, besides his own habits 
of hospitality, carried with love and duty : and therefore omitted 
no service that his wit could invent and power minister. 
But no way he siaw he coijld sp much pleasure them ^s by 

38 ARCADIA [book i. 

leaving the two friends alone, who being shrunk aside to the 
banqueting-house, where the pictures were ; there Palladius 
recounted unto him, that after they had both abandoned the 
■ burning ship (and either of them taking something under him, 
the better to support him to the shore) he knew not how, but either 
with over-labouring in the fight, and sudden cold, or the too much 
receiving of salt-water, he was past himself: but yet holding fast, 
as the nature of dying men is to do, the chest that was under him, 
he was cast on the sands, where he was taken up by a couple of 
shepherds, and by them brought to life again, and kept from 
drowning himself, when he despaired of his safety. How after 
having failed to take him into the fisher-boat, he had by the 
shepherds' persuasion come to this genlleman's house ; where being 
dangerously sick, he had yielded to seek the recovery of health, 
only for that he might the sooner go seek the delivery of Pyrocles ; 
to which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messina, had 
already set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophon's 
taking had so blessedly procured their meeting. Then did he set 
forth unto him the noble entertainment and careful cherishing of 
Kalander towards him, and so upon occasion of the pictures 
present, delivered with the frankness of a friend's tongue, as near 
as could be, word by word what Kalander had told him touching 
the strange story, with all the particularities belonging, of Arcadia ; 
which did in many sorts so delight Pyrocles to hear, that he would 
needs have much of it again repeated, and was not contented till 
Kalander himself had answered him divers questions. 

But first at Musidorus's request, though in brief manner, his 
mind much running upon the strange story of Arcadia, he did 
declare by what course of adventures he was come to make up 
their mutual happiness in meeting. "When, cousin," said he, "we 
had stripped ourselves, and were both leaped into the sea, 
and swam a little towards the shore, I found, by reason of some 
wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the land, and there- 
fore returned back again to the mast of the ship, where you found 
me, assuring myself, that if you came alive to shore, you would 
seek me ; if you were lost, as I thought it as good to perish as to 
live, so that place as good to perish in as another. There I found 
my sword among some of the shrouds, wishing, I must confess, 
if I died, to be found with that in my hand, and withal waving it 
about my head, that sailors by might have the better glimpse of 
me. There you missing me, I was taken up by pirates, who 
putting me under board prisoner, presently set upon another ship 
and maintaining a long fight, in the end put them all to the sword. 
Amongst whom I might hear them greatly praise one young man, 
who fought most valiantly, who (as Jove is careful, and misfortune 


subject to doubtfulness) I thought certainly to be you. And so 
holding you as dead, from that time to the time I saw you, in truth 
I sought nothing more than a noble end, which perchance made 
me more hardy than otherwise I would have been. Trial whereof 
came within two days after ; for the kings of Lacedaemon having 
set out some gallies under the charge of one of their nephews, 
to scour the sea of the pirates, they met with us, where our captain 
wanting men, was driven to arm some of his prisoners, with 
promise of liberty for well fighting ; among whom I was one ; and 
being boarded by the admiral, it was my fortune to kill Euryleon 
the king's nephew : but in the end they prevailed, and we were all 
taken prisoners, I not caring much what became of me (only 
keeping the name of Daiphantus, according to the resolution you 
know is between us :) but being laid in the jail of Tenaria, with 
special hate to me for the death of Euryleon, the popular sort of 
that town conspired with the Helots, and so by night opened them 
the gates ; where entering and killing all of the genteel and rich 
faction, for honesty-sake brake open all prisons, and so delivered 
me : and I, moved with gratefulness, and encouraged with careless- 
ness of life, so behaved myself in some conflicts they had within 
few days, that they barbarously thinking unsensible wonders of 
me, as they heard I was hated of the king of Lacedaemon, their 
chief captain being slain, as you know, by the noble Argalus (who 
helped thereunto by his persuasion) having borne a great affection 
unto me, and to avoid the dangerous emulation which grew among 
the chief, who should have the place, and also affected, as rather 
to have a stranger than a competitor, they elected me (God wot 
little proud of that dignity ;) restoring unto me such things of mine 
as being taken first by the pirates, and then by the Lacedsmonians, 
they had gotten in the sack of the town. Now being in it, so 
good was my success with many victories, that I made a peace 
for them, to their own liking, the very day that you delivered 
Clitophon, whom I, with much ado, had preserved. And in my 
peace the king Amiclas of Lacedasmon would needs have me 
banished, and deprived of the dignity, whereunto I was exalted : 
which (and you may see how much you are bound to me) for your 
sake I was content to suffer, a new hope rising in me, that you 
were not dead : and so meaning to travel over the world to seek 
you ; and now here, my dear Musidorus ! you have me." And with 
that, embracing and kissing each other, they called Kalander, of 
whom Daiphantus desired to hear the full story, which before he 
had recounted to Palladius, and to see the letter of Philanax, which 
he read and well marked. 

But within some days after, the marriage between Argalus and 
the fair Partbenia being to be celebrated, Daiphantus and Palladius, 

40 ARCADIA [book i. 

selling some of their jewels, furnished themselves of very fair 
apparel, meaning to do honour to their loving host, who, as much 
for their sakes as for the marriage, set forth each thing in most 
gorgeous manner. But all the cost bestowed did not so much 
enrich, nor all the fine decking so much beautify, nor all the dainty 
devices so much delight, as the fairness of Parthenia, the pearl of 
all the maids of Mantinasa, who as she went to the temple to be 
married, her eyes themselves seemed a temple, wherein love and 
beauty were married. Her lips, though they were kept close with 
modest silence, yet with a pretty kind of natural swelling, they 
seemed to invite the guests that looked on them ; her cheeks 
blushing, and withal, when she was spoken unto, a httle smiling, 
were like roses when their leaves are with a little breath stirred ; 
her hair being laid at the full length down her back, bare she was, 
if the voward failed, yet that would conquer. Daiphantus marking 
her, " O Jupiter 1 (quoth he speaking to Palladius) how happens 
it, that beauty is only confined to Arcadia?" But Palladius not 
greatly attending his speech, some days were continued in the 
solemnizing the marriage, with all conceits that might deliver 
delight to men's fancies. 

But such a change was grown in Daiphantus that (as if cheerful- 
ness had been tediousness, and good entertainment were turned to 
discourtesy) he would ever get himself alone, though almost when 
he was in company, he was alone, so little attention he gave to any 
that spake unto him : even the colour and figure of his face began 
to receive some alteration, which he shewed little to heed : but 
every morning early going abroad, either to the garden, or to some 
woods towards the desert, it seemed his only comfort was to be 
without a comforter. But long it could not be hid from Palladius, 
whom true love made ready to mark, and long knowledge able to 
mark ; and therefore being now grown weary of his abode in 
Arcadia, having informed himself fully of the strength and riches 
of the country, of the nature of the people, and manner of their 
laws ; and seeing the court could not be visited, prohibited to all 
men, but to certain shepherdish people, he greatly desired a 
speedy return to his own country, after the many mazes of fortune 
he had trodden. But perceiving this great alteration in his friend, 
he thought first to break with him thereof, and then to hasten his 
return ; whereto he found him but smally incUned : whereupon 
one day taking him alone with certain graces and countenances, 
as if he were disputing with the trees, began in this manner to say 
unto him. 

"A mind well trained and long exercised in virtue, my sweet 
and worthy cousin doth not easily change any course it once 
undertakes, but upon well-grounded and well-weighed causes ; for 

BOOK i-l • ARCADIA 41 

being witness to itself of its own inward good, it finds nothing 
without it of so high a price for which it should be altered. Even 
the very countenance and behaviour of such a man doth shew 
forth images of the same constancy, by maintaining a right 
harmony betwixt it and the inward good, in yielding itself suitable 
to the virtuous resolution of the mind. This speech I direct to 
you, noble friend Pyrocles, the excellency of whose mind and well 
chosen course in virtue, if I do not sufficiently know, having seen 
such rare demonstrations of it, it is my weakness, and not your 
unworthiness : but as indeed I know it, and knowing it, most 
dearly love both it and him that hath it, so must I needs say 
that since our late coming into this country, I have marked in you, 
I will not say an alteration, but a relenting truly, and a slacking of 
the main career you had so notably begun and almost performed, 
and that in such sort, as I cannot find sufficient reason in my great 
love toward you how to allow it : for (to leave off other secreter 
arguments which my acquaintance with you makes me easily find) 
this in effect to any man may be manifest, that whereas you were 
wont in all places you came to give yourself vehemently to the 
knowledge of those things which might better your mind, to seek 
the familiarity of excellent men in learning and soldiery, and lastly, 
to put all these things in practice, both by continual wise proceed- 
ing, and worthy enterprises as occasion fell for them ; you now 
leave all these things undone : you let your mind fall asleep : 
beside your countenance troubled, which surely comes not of 
virtue ; for virtue, like the clear heaven, is without clouds : and 
lastly, you subject yourself to solitariness, the sly enemy that doth 
most separate a man from well doing." 

Pyrocles's mind was all this while so fixed upon another devotion, 
that he no more attentively marked his friend's discourse than the 
child that hath leave to play marks the last part of his lesson ; or 
the diligent pilot in a dangerous tempest doth attend the unskilful 
words of a passenger : yet the very sound having imprinted the 
general points of his speech in his heart, pierced with any mislike 
of so dearly an esteemed friend, and desirous by degrees to bring 
him to a gentler consideration of him, with a shame-faced look 
(witnessing he rather could not help, than did not know his fault) 
answered him to this purpose : " Excellent Musidorus ! in the 
praise you gave me in the beginning of your speech, I easily 
acknowledge the force of your good will unto me ; for neither 
could you have thought so well of me, if extremity of love had not 
made your judgment partial, nor could you have loved me so 
entirely if you had not been apt to make so great, though un- 
deserved, judgments of me ; and even so much I say to those 
imperfections to which, though I have ever through weakness been 



subject, yet you by the daily mending of your mind have of lat( 
been able to look into them, which before you could not discern 
so that the change you speak of falls not out by my impairing, bu 
by your bettering. And yet under the leave of your better jiidg 
ment, I must needs say thus much (my dear cousin !) that I fine 
not myself wholly to be condemned because I do not with con. 
tinual vehemency follow those knowledges, which you call the 
bettering of my mind ; for both the mind itself must, like othei 
things, sometimes be unbent, or else it will be either weakened, oi 
broken, and these knowledges, as they are of good use, so are 
they not all the mind may stretch itself unto : who knows whethei 
I feed not my mind with higher thoughts ? Truly, as I know not al 
the particularities, so yet I see the bounds of all these knowledges 
but the workings of the mind I find much more infinite than car 
be led unto by the eye, or imagined by any that distract theii 
thoughts without themselves. And in such contemplation, or, as 
I think, more excellent, I enjoy my solitariness, and my solitariness 
perchance is the nurse of these contemplations. Eagles we see 
fly alone, and they are but sheep which always herd together 
condemn not therefore my mind sometimes to enjoy itself; noi 
blame not the taking of such times as serve most fit for it. Anc 
alas, dear Musidorus ! if I be sad who knows better than you the 
just causes I have of sadness?" And here Pyrocles suddenly 
stopped, like a man unsatisfied in himself, though his wit mighl 
well have served to have satisfied another. And so looking with s 
countenance as though he desired he should know his mind 
without hearing him speak, and yet desirous to speak, to breathe 
out some part of his inward evil, sending again new blood to his 
face, he continued his speech in this manner: "And lord, deal 
cousin," said he, " doth not the pleasantness of this place carry ir 
itself sufficient reward for any' time lost in it? do you not see how 
all things conspire together to make this country a heavenly 
dwelling ? do you not see the grass, how in colour they excel the 
emeralds, every one striving to pass his fellow, and yet they are 
all kept of an equal height? and see you not the rest of these 
beautiful flowers, each of which would require a man's wit to know, 
and his life to express ? do not these stately trees seem to maintair 
their flourishing old age with the only happiness of their seat 
being clothed with a continual spring, because no beauty here 
should ever fade ? doth not the air breathe health, which the birds 
deUghtful both to ear and eye, do daily solemnize with the swee 
consent of their voices? is not every echo thereof a perfect music 
And these fresh and delightful brooks how slowly they slide away 
as loth to leave the company of so many things united in perfec 
ion? and with how sweet a murmur they lament their forcec 


departure ? certainly, certainly, cousin, it must needs be that some 
goddess inhabiteth this region, who is the soul of this soil : for 
neither is any less than a goddess worthy to be shrined in such a 
heap of pleasures, nor any less than a goddess could have made it 
so perfect a plat of the celestial dwellings." And so ended with a 
deep sigh, ruefully* casting his eyes upon Musidorus, as more 
desirous of pity than pleading. But Musidorus had all this while 
held his look fixed upon Pyrocles's countenance ; and with no less 
loving attention marked how his words proceeded from him : but 
in both these he perceived such strange diversities, that they 
rather increased new doubts than gave him ground to settle any 
judgment : for besides his eyes sometimes even great with tears, 
the oft changing of his colour, with a kind of shaking unsteadiness 
over all his body, he might see in his countenance some great 
determination mixed with fear ; and might perceive in him store 
of thoughts, rather stirred than digested ; his words interrupted 
continually with sighs, which served as a burden to each sentence, 
and the tenour of his speech, though of his wanted phrase, not 
knit together to one constant end, but rather dissolved in itself, as 
the vehemency of the inward passion prevailed : which made 
Musidorus frame his answer nearest to that humour, which should 
soonest put out the secret. For having in the beginning of 
Pyrocles's speech, which defended his solitariness, framed in his 
mind a reply against it in the praise of honourable action, in 
showing that such a kind of contemplation is but a glorious title 
to idleness ; that in action a man did not only better himself, but 
benefit others ; that the gods would not have delivered a soul into 
the body which had arms and legs, only instruments of doing, but 
that it were intended the mind should employ them, and that the 
mind should best know his own good or evil by practice ; which 
knowledge was the only way to increase the one, and correct the 
other ; besides many other arguments, which the plentifulness of 
the matter yielded to the sharpness of his wit. When he found 
Pyrocles leave that, and fall into such an affected praising of the 
place, he left it likewise, and joined with him therein : because he 
found him in that humour utter more store of passion ; and even 
thus kindly embracing him, he said, " Your words are such, noble 
cousin, so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of solitariness, 
as they would make me likewise yield myself up into it, but that 
the same words make me know it is more pleasant to enjoy the 
company of him that can speak such words than by such words to 
be persuaded to follow solitariness. And even so do I give you 
leave, sweet Pyrocles, ever to defend solitariness, so long as to 
defend it, you ever keep company. But I marvel at the excessive 

• WoefuUy 


ARCADIA [^oo'f 

praises you give to this country ; in truth it is not unpleasant, bi 
yet if you would return into Macedon you should either see man 
heavens, or find this no more than earthly. And even Tempe i 
my Thessalia (where you and I, to my great happmess, wer 
brought up together) is nothing inferior unto it. But I think yo 
will make me see that the vigour of your wit can show itself i 
any subject : or else you feed sometimes your solitariness with th 
conceits of the poets, whose liberal pens can as easily travel ove 
mountains as molehills, and so like well-disposed men, set u 
everything to the highest note ; especially, when they put sue 
words in the mouths of one of these fantastical, mind-infect© 
people, that children and musicians call 'Lovers.'" This won 
" Lover," did no less pierce poor Pyrodes, than the right tune c 
music toucheth him that is sick of the Tarantula.* There was no 
one part of his body that did not feel a sudden motion, while hi 
heart with panting seemed to dance to the sound of that word ; ye 
after some pause (lifting up his eyes a Uttle from the ground, am 
yet not daring to place them in the eyes of Musidorus) armed witl 
the very countenance of the poor prisoner at the bar, whose answe 
is nothing but guilty: with much ado he brought forth thi 
question. " And alas," said he, " dear cousin, what if I be not s 
much the poet (the freedom of whose pen can exercise itself in an 
thing) as even that miserable subject of his cunning whereof yo 
speak?" "Now the eternal gods forbid," mainly cried on 
Musidorus, " that ever my ear should be poisoned with so ev 
news of you. O let me never know that any base affection shoul 
get any lordship in your thoughts." But as he was speakin, 
more, Kalander came and brake off their discourse with invitin 
them to the hunting of a goodly stag, which being harboured in 
wood thereby, he hoped would make them good sport, and driv 
away some part of Daiphantus's melancholy. They condescende( 
and so going to their lodgings, furnished themselves as liked then 
biaphantus writing a few words which he sealed in a letter again; 
their return. 

Then went they together abroad, the good Kalander entertainin 
them with pleasant discoursing, how well he loved the sport ( 
hunting when he was a young man, how much, in the compariso 
thereof, he disdained all chamber-delights, that the fun (how grei 
a journey soever he had to make) could never prevent him wit 
earliness, nor the moon, with her sober countenance, dissuade hii 
from watching till midnight for the deer feeding. " O," said hi 
"you will never live to my age, without you keep yourselves i 
breath with exercise, and in heart with joyfulness. Too muc 

* A venomous Spider (so called from Tarento a city of Naples) whose bite is of sui 
,a nature, that it is to be cured only by music. 


thinking doth consume the spirits, and oft it falls out that while 
one thinks too much of his doing, he leaves to do the effect of 
his thinking." Then spared he not to remember how much 
Arcadia was changed since his youth : activity and good fellowship 
being nothing in the price it was then held in ; but, according 
to the nature of the old growing world, still worse and worse. 
Then would he tell them stories of such gallants as he had known : 
and so with pleasant company beguiled the time's haste, and 
shortenened the way's length, till they came to the side of the 
wood, where the hounds were in couples staying their coming, but 
with a whining accent craving liberty, many of them in colour and 
marks so resembling, that it shewed they were of one kind. The 
huntsmen handsomely attired in their green liveries as though 
they were children of summer, with staves in their hands to beat 
the guiltless earth when the hounds were at a fault, and with horns 
about their necks to sound an alarm upon a silly fugitive : the 
hounds were straight uncoupled, and e'er long the stag thought 
it better to trust to the nimbleness of his feet than to the slender 
fortification of his lodging : but even his feet betrayed him, for 
howsoever they went, they themselves uttered themselves to the 
scent of their enemies, who one taking it of another, and sometimes 
believing the wind's advertisement, sometimes the view of their 
faithful counsellors, the huntsmen, with open mouths then 
denounced war, when the war was already begun ; their cry being 
composed of so well sorted mouths, that any man would perceive 
therein some kind of proportion, but the skilful woodmen did find 
a music. Then delight, and variety of opinion, drew the horsemen 
sundry ways, yet cheering their hounds with voice and horn, kept 
still, as it were, together. The wood seemed to conspire with them 
against his own citizens, dispersing their noise through all his 
quarters, and even the nymph Echo left to bewail the loss of 
Narcissus, and become a hunter. But the stag was in the end 
so hotly pursued that, leaving his flight, he was driven to make 
courage of despair, and so, turning his head, made the hounds, 
with change of speech, to testify that he was at a bay, as if from 
hot pursuit of their enemy, they were suddenly come to a parley. 

But Kalander, by his skill of coasting the country, was amongst 
the first that came into the besieged deer ; whom when some of 
the younger sort would have killed with their swords, he would not 
suffer, but with a cross-bow sent a [death to the poor beast, who 
with tears showed the unkindness he took of man's cruelty. 

But by the time that the whole company was assembled, and 
that the stag had bestowed himself liberally among them that had 
killed him, Daiphantus was missed, for whom Palladius carefully 
inquiring, no news could be given him, but by one that said he 

4(5 ARCADIA [book i, 

thought he was returned home ; for that he marked him in the 
chief of the hunting, take a bye- way which might lead to Kalander": 
house. That answer for the time satisfying, and they having 
performed all duties, as well for the stag's funeral as the hounds 
triumph, they returned ; some talking of the fatness of the deer's 
body ; some of the fairness of his head ; some of the hounds 
cunning ; some of their speed, and some of their cry ; till coming 
home, about the time that the candles begin to inherit the sun's 
office, they found Daiphantus was not to be found. Whereal 
Palladius greatly marvelling, and a day or two passing, while 
neither search nor inquiry could help him to knowledge, at lasl 
he lighted upon the letter which Pyroclus had written before he 
went a hunting, and left in his study among other of his writings : 
The letter was directed to Palladius himself, and contained these 
words : 

My only friend ! violence of love leads me into such a coursej 
whereof your knowledge may much more vex you, than help me. 
Therefore pardon my concealing it from you, since, if I wrong you, 
it is in the respect I bear you. Return into Thessalia, I pray you, 
as full of good fortune as I am of desire j and if I live, I will in a 
short time follow you ; if I die, love ray memory. 

This was all, and this Palladius read twice or thrice over, 
" Ah," said he, " Pyrocles what means this alteration ? what have 
I deserved of thee to be thus banished of thy counsels ? Hereto- 
fore I have accused the sea, condemned the pirates, and hated 
my evil fortune that deprived me of thee ; but now thyself is the 
sea which drowns my comfort ; thyself is the pirate that robs thy- 
self from me ; thy own will becomes thy evil fortune." Then turned 
he his thoughts to all forms of guesses that might light upon the 
purpose and course of Pyrocles, for he was not so sure by his words 
that it was love, as he was doubtful where the love was. One time 
he thought some beauty in Laconia had laid hold of his eyes 
another time he feared that it might be Parthenia's excellencj 
which had broken the bands of all former resolution ; but the more 
he thought the more he knew not what to think, armies of objections 
rising against any accepted opinion. 

Then as careful he was what to do himself: at length determined 
never to leave seeking him till his search should be either bj 
meeting accomplished, or by death ended. Therefore (for all the 
unkindness bearing tender respect that his friend's secret deter- 
mination should be kept from any suspicion in others) he went te 
Kalander, and told him that he had received a message from his 
friend, by which he understood he was gone back again intc 
Laconia about some matters greatly importing the poor men 
whose protection he had undertaken, and that it was in any sort 


fit for him to follow him, but in such private wise, as not to be 
-known, and that therefore he would as then bid him farewell ; 
arming himself in a black armour, as either a badge, or prognosti- 
cation of his mind, and taking only with him a good store of 
money and a few choice jewels, leaving the greatest number of 
them, and most of his apparel with Kalander, which he did partly 
to give the more cause to Kalander to expect their return, and so to 
be the less curiously inquisive after them — and partly to leave those 
honourable thanks unto him for his charge and kindness, which he 
knew he would not other way receive. The good old man having 
neither reason to dissuade^ nor hope to persuade, received the 
things with mind of a keeper, not of an owner ; but, before he 
went, desired he might have the happiness fully to know what they 
were, which, he said, he had ever till then delayed, fearing to be 
importune : but now he would not be so much an enemy to his 
desires as any longer to imprison them in silence. Palladius told 
him that the matter was not so secret but that so worthy a friend 
deserved the knowledge, and should have it as soon as he might 
speak with his friend, without whose consent (because their promise 
bound him otherwise) he could not reveal it ; but bade him hold 
for most assured that if they lived but a while he should find that 
they which bore the names of Diaphantus and Palladius would 
give him and his cause to think his noble courtesy well employed. 
Kalander would press him no farther, but desiring that he might 
have leave to go, or at least to send his son and servants with him : 
Palladius brake off all ceremonies by telling him his case stood so 
that his greatest favour should be in making least ado of his 
parting. Wherewith Kalander knowing it to be more cumber than 
courtesy to strive, abstained from farther urging him, but not from 
hearty mourning the loss of so sweet a conversation. 

Only Clitophon by vehement importunity obtained to go with 
him to come again to Diaphantus, whom he named and accounted 
his lord. And in such private guise departed Palladius, though 
having a companion to talk withal, yet talking much more with 
unkindness. And first they went to Mantinaea ; whereof because 
Parthenia was, he suspected there might be some cause of his 
abode. But, finding there no news of him, he went to Tegea, 
Ripa, Enispse, Stimphalus, and Phineus, famous for the poisonous 
Stygian water, and through all the rest of Arcadia, making their 
eyes, their ears, and their tongues serve almost for nothing but 
that inquiry. But they could know nothing but that in none of 
those places he was known. And so went they, making one 
place succeed to another in like uncertainty to their search, many 
times encountering strange adventures worthy to be registered in 
the rolls of fame : but this may not be omitted. As tliey passed 

48 ARCADIA [book i. 

in a pleasant valley (on either side of which high hills lifted up 
their beetle-brows, as if they would overlook the pleasantness of 
their under-prospect) they were by the daintiness of the place, and 
the weariness of themselves, invited to light from their horses, and 
pulled off their bits that they might something refresh their mouths 
upon the grass (which plentifully grew, brought up under the care 
of those well-shading trees), they themselves laid them down hard 
by the murmuring music of certain waters which spouted out of 
the side of the hills, and in the bottom of the valley made of many 
springs a pretty brook, like a commonwealth of many families ; 
but when they had a while hearkened to the persuasion of sleep, 
they rose and walked onward in that shady place till Clitophon 
espied a piece of armour, and not far off another piece ; and so the 
sight of one piece teaching him to look for more, he at length 
found all, with head-piece and shield, by the device whereof (which 
was ****♦*♦), he straight knew it to be the armour 
of his cousin, the noble Amphialus. Whereupon (fearing some 
inconvenience happened unto him) he told both his doubt and 
cause of doubt to Palladius, who, -considering thereof, thought 
best to make no longer stay, but to follow on, lest perchance 
some violence were offered to so worthy a knight, whom the fame 
of the world seemed to set in balance with any knight living. Yet 
with a sudden conceit, having long borne great honour to the name 
of Amphialus, Palladius thought best to take that armour, thinking 
thereby to learn by them that should know that armour some news 
of Amphialus, and yet not hinder him in the search of Diaphantus 
too. So he, by the help of Clitophon, quickly put on that armour, 
whereof there was no one piece wanting, though hacked in some 
places, betraying some fighting not long since passed. It was 
something too great, but yet served well enough. And so, getting 
on their horses, they travelled but a little way when in the opening 
of the mouth of the valley into a fair field they met with a coach 
drawn with four milk-white horses, furnished all in black with a 
black-a-moor boy upon every horse, they all apparelled in white, 
the coach itself very richly furnished in black and white. But 
before they could come so near as to discern what was within, 
there came running upon them above a dozen horsemen, who cried 
to them to yield themselves prisoners or else they should die. But 
Palladius, not accustomed to grant over the possession of himself 
upon so unjust titles, with sword drawn gave them so rude an 
answer that divers of them never had breath to reply again : for, 
being well backed by Clitophon, and having an excellent horse 
under him, when he was overpressed by some he avoided them, 
and e'er the other thought of it, punished in him his fellow's faults, 
and so either with cunning or with force, or rather with a cunning 


force, left none of them either living or able to make his life serve 
to others hurt. Which being done, he approached the coach, 
assuring the black boys they should have no hurt, who were else 
ready to have run away ; and looking in the coach, he found in the 
one end a lady of great beauty, and such a beauty as showed forth 
the beams both of wisdom and good nature, but all as much 
darkened as might be, with sorrow. In the other, two ladies (who 
by their demeanour showed well they were but her servants) hold- 
ing before them a picture in which was a goodly gentleman whom 
he knew not, painted, having in their faces a certain waiting 
sorrow, their eyes being infected with their mistress's weeping. 
But the chief lady having not so much as once heard the noise of 
this conflict (so had sorrow closed up all the entries of her mind, 
and love tied her senses to that beloved picture), now the shadow 
of him falling upon the picture made her cast up her eye, and 
seeing the armour which too well she knew, thinking him to be 
Amphiaius, the lord of her desires (blood coming more freely into 
her cheeks, as though it would be bold, and yet there growing new 
again pale for fear) with a pitiful look, like one unjustly con- 
demned. "My Lord Amphiaius," said she, "you have enough 
punished me ; it is time for cruelty to leave you, and evil fortune 
me ; if not, I pray you (and to grant my prayer fitter time nor 
place you cannot have) accomplish the one even now, and finish 
the other." With that, sorrow inipatient to be slowly uttered in 
her often staying speeches, poured itself so fast into tears, that 
Palladius could not hold her longer in error, but pulling off his 
helmet, " Madam," said he, " I perceive you mistake me ; I am a 
stranger in these parts, set upon without any cause given by me by 
some of your servants, whom, because I have in my just defence evil 
intreated, I came to make my excuse to you, whom seeing such as 
I do, I find greater cause why I should crave pardon of you." 
When she saw his face and heard his speech she looked out of the 
coach, and seeing her men, some slain, some lying under their 
dead horses and striving to get from under them, without making 
more account of the matter ; " Truly," said she, " they are well served 
that durst lift up their arms against that armour. But, Sir Knight," 
said she, " I pray you tell me, how came you by this armour ? for 
if it be by the death of him that owned it, then have I more to say 
unto you." Palladius assured her it was not so, telling her the 
true manner how he found it. " It is like enough," said she, "for 
that agrees with the manner he hath lately used. But I beseech 
you, Sir," said she, "since your prowess hath bereft me of my 
company, let it yet so far heal the wounds itself hath given as to 
guard me to the next town." " How great soever my business be, 
fair lady," said he, " it shall willingly yield to so noble a, cause : 


50 ARCADIA [book i. 

but first, even by the favour you bear to the lord of this noble 
armour, I conjure you to tell me the story of your fortune herein, 
lest, hereafter, when the image of so excellent a lady in so strange 
a plight come before mine eyes, I condemn myself of want of con- 
sideration in not having demanded thus much. Neither ask I it 
without protestation that wherein my sword and faith may avail you 
they shall bind themselves to your service." " Your conjuration, fair 
knight," said she, " is too strong for my poor spirit to disobey, and 
that shall make me (without any other hope, my ruin being but by 
one unrehevable) to grant your will herein, and to say the truth, a 
strange niceness were it in me to refrain that from the ears of a 
person representing so much worthiness, which I am glad even to 
rocks and woods to utter. Know you then that my name is Helen, 
queen by birth, and hitherto possessed of the fair city and territory 
of Corinth. I can say no more of myself but that I am beloved of 
my people, and may justly say beloved, since they are content to 
bear with my absence and folly. But I being left by my father's 
death, and accepted by my people in the highest degree that 
country could receive ; as soon, or rather, before that my age was 
ripe for it, my court quickly swarmed full of suitors : some, per- 
chance, loving my estate, others my person ; but once, I know all 
of them, however my possessions were in their heart, my beauty, 
such as it is, was in their mouths, many strangers of princely and 
noble blood, and all of mine own country, to whom either birth or 
virtue gave courage to avow so high a desire. 

" Among the rest, or rather, before the rest, was the lord Phil- 
oxenus, son and heir to the virtuous nobleman, Timotheus, which 
Timotheus was a man both in power, riches, parentage, and, which 
passed all these, goodness ; and, which followed all these, love of 
the people, beyond any of the great men of my country. Now, 
this son of his, I must say truly, not unworthy of such a father, bend- 
ing himself by all means of serviceableness to me, and setting forth 
of himself to win my favour, won thus far of me that in truth I less 
misliked him than any of the rest, which, in some proportion, my 
countenance delivered unto him. Though, I must confess, it was 
a very false ambassador if it delivered at all any affection whereof 
my heart was utterly void, I as then esteeming myself born to rule, 
and thinking foul scorn willingly to submit myself to be ruled. 

"But while Philoxenus in good sort pursued my favour, and 
perchance nourished himself with overmuch hope, because he 
found I did in some sort acknowledge his virtue ; one time among 
the rest he brought with him a dear friend of his." With that she 
looked upon the picture before her, and straight sighed, and 
straight tears flowed, as if the idol of duty ought to be honoured 
with such oblations ; and then her speech stayed the tale, having 


brought her to that look, but that look having quite put her out of 
her tale. 

But Palladius greatly pitying so sweet a sorrow in a lady, whom 
by fame he had already known and honoured, besought for her 
promise sake to put silence so long unto her moaning till she had 
recounted the rest of this story. "Why," said she, "this is the 
picture of Amphialus : what need I say more unto you ? What 
ear is so barbarous but hath heard of Amphialus ? Who follows 
deeds of arms, but everywhere finds monuments of Amphialus ? 
Who is courteous, noble, liberal, but he hath the example before his 
eyes of Amphialus ? Where are all hereoic parts but in Amphi- 
alus ? O Amphalius, I would thou wert not so excellent, 
or I would I thought thee not so excellent, and yet would 
I not that I would so." With that she wept again ; till he 
again soliciting the conclusion of her story : " Then you must," 
said she, "know the story of Amphialus, for his will is my life, 
his life my history : and indeed in what can I better employ my 
lips than in speaking of Amphialus. 

" This knight, then, whose figure you see, but whose mind can 
be painted by nothing but by their true shape of virtue, is brother's 
son to Basilius, King of Arcadia, and in his childhood esteemed 
his heir, till Basilius, in his old years, marrying a young and fair 
lady, had of her those two daughters, so famous for their perfection 
in beauty, which put by their young cousin from that expectation. 
Whereupon his mother (a woman of an haughty heart, being 
daughter to the King of Argos) either disdaining or fearing that 
her son should live under the power of Basilius, sent him to that 
lord Timotheus (between whom and her dead husband there had 
passed straight bands of mutual hospitality) to be brought up in 
company with his son Philoxenus. 

" A happy resolution for Amphialus, whose excellent nature was 
by this means trained on with as good education as any prince's 
son in the world could have, which otherwise it is thought his 
mother, far unworthy of such a son, would not have given him : 
the good Timotheus no less loving him than his own son. Well, 
they grew in years, and shortly occasions fell aptly to try 
Amphialus, and all occasions were but steps for him to climb fame 
by. Nothing was so hard but his valour overcame ; which yet 
still he so guided with true virtue that although no man was in our 
parts spoken of but he for his manhood, yet, as though therein he 
excelled himself, he was commonly called the courteous Amphialus. 
An endless thing it were for me to tell how many adventures, 
terrible to be spoken of, he achieved, what monsters, what giants, 
what conquests of countries, sometimes using policy, sometimes 
force, but always virtue well followed, and but followed by 


Philoxenus, between whom and him so fast a friendship by educa- 
tion was knit that at last Philoxenus having no greater matter to 
employ his friendship in than to win me, therein desired, and had 
his uttermost furtherance : to that purpose brought he him to my 
court, where truly I may justly witness with him that what his wit 
could conceive (and his wit can conceive as far as the limits of 
reason stretch) was all directed to the setting forward the suit of 
his friend Philoxenus : mine ears could hear nothing from him but 
touching the worthiness of Philoxenus, and of the great happiness 
it would be unto me to have such a husband ; with many 
arguments, which God knows I cannot well remember, because I 
did not much believe. For why should I use many circumstances 
to come to that where already I am, and ever while I live must 
continue ? in few words, while he pleaded for another, he won me 
for himself : if at least," with that she sighed, " he would account 
it a winning, for his fame had so framed the way to my mind that 
his presence, so full of beauty, sweetness and noble conversation, 
had entered there before he vouchsafed to call for the keys. O 
lord, how did my soul hang at his lips while he spake ! O when 
he in feeling manner would describe the love of his friend, how 
well, thought I, doth love between those lips ! when he would with 
daintiest eloquence stir pity in me toward Philoxenus, 'Why 
sure,' said I to myself, ' Helen, be not afraid, this heart cannot 
want pity : ' and when he would extol the deeds of Philoxenus, 
who indeed had but waited of him therein, alas, thought I, good 
Philoxenus, how evil doth it become thy name to be subscribed to 
his letter ? what should I say ? nay, what should I not say (noble 
knight ! who am not ashamed, nay am delighted, thus to express 
my own passions ? 

"Days past, his eagerness for his friend never decreased, my 
affection to him ever increased. At length, in way of ordinary 
courtesy, I obtained of him, who suspected no such matter, this 
his picture, the only Amphialus, I fear, that I shall ever enjoy ; and 
grown bolder, or madder, or bold with madness, I discovered my 
affection unto him. But lord, I shall never forget how anger and 
courtesy at one instant appeared in his eyes when he heard that 
motion ; how with his blush he taught me shame. In sum, he left 
nothing unassayed which might disgrace himself to grace his 
friend, in sweet terms making me receive a most resolute refiisal of 
himself. But when he found that his presence did far more 
persuade for himself than his speech could do for his friend, he left 
my court, hoping that forgetfulness, which commonly waits upon 
absence, would make room for his friend, to whom he would not 
utter thus much, I think, for a kind fear not to grieve him, or 
perchance, though he c^res little for me, of a certain hopourabje 

»ooK I.] ARCAbiA 5^ 

gratefulness, not yet to discover so much of my secrets : but, as it 
should seem, meant to travel into far countries, until his friend's 
affection either ceased or prevailed. But within a while, Philoxenus 
came to see how onward the fruits were of his friend's labour, when 
(as in truth I cared not much how he took it) he found me sitting, 
beholding this picture, I know not with how affectionate counten- 
ance, but I am sure with a most affectionate mind. I straight 
found jealousy and disdain took hold of him, and yet the froward 
pain of mine own heart made me so delight to punish him whom I 
esteemed to be the chiefest let in my way ; that when he with 
humble gesture, and vehement speeches sued for my favour, I told 
him that I would hear him more willingly if he would speak for 
Amphialus as well as Amphialus had done for him : he never 
answered me, but pale and quaking, went straight away ; and 
straight my heart misgave me some evil success : and yet, though 
I had authority enough to have stayed him (as in these fatal things 
it falls out that the high working powers make second causes 
unwittingly accessory to their determinations) I did no farther, but 
sent a footman of mine (whose faithfulness to me I well knew) 
from place to place to follow him and bring me word of his 
proceedings, which (alas !) have brought forth that which I fear I 
must ever rue. 

" For he had travelled scarce a day's journey out of my country, 
but that, not far from this place, he overtook Amphialus, who, by 
succouring a distressed lady, had been here stayed, and by and by 
called him to fight with him, protesting that one of them two should 
die. You may easily judge how strange it was to Amphialus, 
whose heart could accuse itself of no fault but too much affection 
toward him, which he, refusing to fight with him, would fain have 
made Philoxenus understand, but, as my servant since told me, the 
more Amphialus went back, the more he followed, calling him 
traitor and coward, yet never telling the cause of this strange 
alteration. 'Ah Philoxenus,' said Amphialus, 'I know I am no 
traitor, and thou well knowest I am no coward : but I pi'ay thee 
content thyself with this much, and let this satisfy thee that I love 
thee, since I bear thus much of thee.' But he, leaving words, 
drew his sword and gave Amphialus a great blow or two, which, 
but for the goodness of his armour, would have slain him : and yet 
so far did Amphialus contain himself, stepping aside, and saying 
to him, ' Well, Philoxenus, and thus much villiany am I content 
to put up, not any longer for thy sake (whom I have no cause to 
love since thou dost injure me, and wilt not tell me the cause) but 
for thy virtuous father's sake to whom I am so much bound, I pray 
thee go away, and conquer thy own passions and thou shalt make 
me soon yield to be thy servant.' But he would not attend to his 

^,, AkCAt)IA tBooK i. 

words, but still struck so fiercely at Amphialus that in the end 
(nature prevailing above determination) he was fain to defend 
himself, and withal so to offend him that by an unlucky blow the 
poor Philoxenus fell dead at his feet, having had time only to 
speak some few words, whereby Amphialus knew it was for my 
sake : which when Amphialus saw, he forthwith gave such tokens 
of tme-felt sorrow that, as my servant said, no imagination could 
conceive greater woe. But that by and by an unhappy occasion 
made Amphialus pass himself in sorrow : for Philoxenus was but 
newly dead, when there comes to the same place the aged and 
virtuous Timotheus ; who (having heard of his son's sudden and 
passionate manner of parting from my court) had followed him as 
speedily as he could, but alas not so speedily but that he found 
him dead before he could overtake him. Though my heart be 
nothing but a stage of tragedies, yet, I must confess, it is even 
unable to bear the miserable representation thereof, knowing 
Amphialus and Timotheus as I have done. Alas, what sorrow, 
what amazement, what shame was in Amphialus when he saw his 
dear foster-father find him the killer of his only son ? In my heart, 
I know he wished mountains had lain upon him to keep him from 
that meeting. As for Timotheus, sorrow for his son, and, I think 
principally, unkindness of Amphialus so devoured his vital spirits 
that, able to say no more, but ' Amphialus, Amphialus, have I ? ' 
he sank to the earth, and presently died. 

" But not my tongue, though daily used to complaints, no, nor if 
my heart, which is nothing but sorrow, were turned to tongues, 
durst it undertake to show the unspeakableness of his grief But, 
because this serves to make you know my fortune, he threw away 
his armour, even this which you have now upon you, which at the 
first sight I vainly hoped he had put on again ; and then, as 
ashamed of the light, he ran into the thickest of the woods, lament- 
ing, and even crying out so pitifully that my servant, though of a 
fortune not used to much tenderness, could not refrain weeping 
when he told it me. He once overtook him ; but Amphialus 
drawing his sword, which was the only part of his arms, God 
knows to what purpose, he carried about him, threatened to kill 
him if he followed him, and withal bade him deliver this bitter 
message, that he well enough found I was the cause of all this 
mischief, and that if I were a man, he would go over the world to 
kill me, but bade me assure myself that of all creatures in the 
world he most hated me. Ah, Sir knight, whose ears I think by 
this time are tired with the rugged ways of these misfortunes, now 
weigh my case, if at least you know what love is. For this cause 
have I left my country, putting in hazard how my people will in 
time deal by me, adventuring what perils or dishonours might 


ensue, only to follow him who proclaimeth hate against me, and to 
bring my neck unto him, if that may redeem my trespass, and 
assuage his fury. And now, Sir," said she, "you have your 
request, I pray you take pains to guide me to the next town, that 
there I may gather such of my company again as your valour hath 
left me." 

Paladius willingly condescended, but e'er they began to 
go, there came Clitophon who, having been something hurt by one 
of them, had pursued him a good way : at length overtaking him, 
and ready to kill him, understood they were servants to the fair 
queen Helen, and that the cause of this enterprise was for nothing 
but to make Amphialus prisoner, whom they knew their mistress 
sought ; for she concealed her sorrow, nor cause of her sorrow 
from nobody. But Clitophon, very sorry for this accident, came back 
to comfort the queen, helping such as were hurt in the best sort that 
he could, and framing friendly constructions of this rashly under- 
taken enmity, when in comes another, till that time unseen, all 
armed, with his beaver down, who first looking round about upon 
the company, as soon as he espied Palladius, he drew his sword, 
and making no other prologue, let fly at him. But Palladius, sorry 
for so much harm as had already happened, fought rather to retire 
and ward, thinking he might be someone that belonged to the fair 
queen, whose case in his heart he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, 
stepped between them, asking the new come knight the cause 
of this quarrel, who answered him, that he would kill that thief 
who had stolen away his master's armour, if he did not restore it. 
With that Palladius looked upon him and saw that he of the other 
side had Palladius's own armour upon him. "Truly," said 
Palladius " if I have stolen this armour, you did not buy that ; but 
you shall not fight with me upon such a quan-el ; you shall have 
this armour willingly, which I did only put on to do honour to the 
owner." But CHtophon straight knew by his words and voice that 
it was Ismenus, the faithful and diligent page of Amphialus ; and, 
therefore, telling him that he was Clitophon, and willing him to 
acknowledge his error to the other, who deserved all honour, the 
young gentleman pulled off his head-piece, and, lighting, went to 
kiss Palladius's hands, desiring him to pardon his folly, caused 
by extreme grief, which easily might bring forth anger. " Sweet 
gentleman," said Palladius, " you shall only make me this amends, 
that you shall carry this your lord's armour from me to him, and 
tell him from an unknown knight, who admires his worthiness, 
that he cannot cast a greater mist over his glory than by being 
so Unkind to so excellent a princess as this queen is." Ismenus 
promised he would as soon as he durst find his master : and with 
that went to do his duty to the queen, whom in all these encounters 

56 ARCADIA t^ooit t. 

astonishment made hardy: but as soon as she saw Ismenus, 
looking to her picture, "Ismenus," said she, "here is my lord, 
where is yours ? or come you to bring me some sentence of death 
from him ? if it be so, welcome be it. I pray you speak, and speak 
quickly." " Alas ! Madam," said Ismenus, " I have lost my lord ; " 
with that tears came into his eyes, " for as soon as the unhappy 
combat was concluded, with the death both of father and son, my 
master, casting off his armour, went his way, forbidding me upon 
pain of death to follow him. Yet divers days I followed his steps, 
till lastly I found him, having newly met with an excellent spaniel 
belonging to his dead companion Philoxenus. The dog straight 
fawned on my master, for old knowledge, but never was there 
thing more pitiful than to hear my master blame the dog for 
loving his master's murderer, renewing afresh his complaints with 
the dumb counsellor, as if they might comfort one another in their 
miseries. But my lord having espied me, rose up in such rage 
that in truth I feared he would kill me : yet as then he said only, 
if I would not displease him, I should not come near him till he 
sent for me : too hard a commandment for me to disobey : I 
yielded, leaving him only waited on by his dog, and as I think 
seeking out the most solitary places that this or any other country 
can grant him : and I, returning where I had left his armour, 
found another instead thereof, and (disdaining I must confess that 
any should bear the armour of the best knight living) armed 
myself therein to play the fool, as even now I did." "Fair 
Ismenus," said the queen, "a fitter messenger could hardly be 
to unfold my tragedy, I see the end, I see my end." 

With that, sobbing, she desired to be conducted to the next 
town, where Palladius left her to be waited on by Clitophon, at 
Palladius's earnest entreaty, who desired alone to take that melan- 
choly course of seeking his friend ; and therefore changing armour 
again with Ismenus, who went withal to a castle belonging to his 
master, he continued his quest for his friend Daiphantus. 

So directed he his course to Laconia, as well among the Helots, 
as Spartans : there indeed he found his fame flourishing, his 
monuments engraved in marble, and yet more durably in men's 
memories ; but the universal lamenting his absented presence, 
assured him of his present absence. Thence into the Elean 
province, to see whether at the olympian games there celebrated 
he might in such concourse bless his eyes with so desired an 
encounter : but th3.t huge and sportful assembly grew to him 
a tedious loneliness, esteeming nobody found, since Diaphantus 
■was lost. Afterwards he passeth through Achaia and Sicyonia, 
to the Corinthians, proud of their two seas, to learn whether by 
the straight of that Isthmus it were possible to know of his passage. 

ftooK I.] ARCAbtA 5? 

But finding every place more dumb than other to his demands, 
and remembering that it was late-taken love which had wrought 
this new course, he returned again, after two months travel in vain, 
to make a fresh search in Arcadia ; so much the more as then 
first he bethought himself of the picture of Philoclea, which re- 
sembling her he had once loved, might perhaps awake again that 
sleeping passion. And having already passed over the greatest 
part of Arcadia, one day coming under the side of the pleasant 
mountain Msenalus, his horse, nothing guilty of his inquisitiveness, 
with flat tiring taught him, that discreet stays make speedy 
journeys : and therefore lighting down, and unbridling his horse, 
he himself went to repose himself in a little wood he saw thereby. 
Where lying under the protection of a shady tree, with intention 
to make forgetting sleep comfort a sorrowful memory, he saw 
a sight which persuaded and obtained of his eyes that they would 
abide yet a while open. It was the appearing of a lady, who 
because she walked with her side toward him, he could not 
perfectly see her face, but so much he might see of her, that was 
a surety for the rest, that all was excellent. 

Well might he perceive the hanging of her hair in fairest 
quantity, in locks some curled, and some as it were forgotten, with 
such a careless care, and an art so hiding art, that she seemed she 
would lay them for a pattern, whether nature simply, or nature 
helped by cunning, be the more excellent : the rest whereof was 
drawn into a coronet of gold richly set with pearl, and so joined 
all over with gold wires and covered with feathers of divers colours 
that it was not unlike to an helmet, such a glittering show it bare, 
and so bravely it was held up from the head. Upon her body she 
wore a doublet of sky-coloured satin, covered with plates of gold, 
and, as it were, nailed with precious stones, that in it she might 
seem armed ; the nether part of her garment was full of stuff, 
and cut after such a fashion that though the length of it reached 
to the ankles, yet in her going one might sometimes discern the 
small of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a short pair 
of crimson velvet buskins, in some places open, as the ancient 
manner was, to show the fairness of the skin. Over all this she 
wore a certain mantle, made in such manner, that coming under 
her right arm and covering most of that side, it had no fastening 
on the left side, but only upon the top of her shoulder, where the 
two ends met, and were closed together with a very rich jewel : 
the device whereof, as he after saw, was this : a Hercules made in 
little form, but set with a distaff in his hand, as he once was by 
Omphale's commandment, with a word in Greek, but thus to be 
interpreted, "Never more valiant." On the same side on her 
thigh she wore a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon^ 

58 ARCADIA [book i. 

or one following that profession, so it seemed but a needless 
weapon, since her other forces were without withstanding. But 
this lady walked out-right till he might see her enter into a fine 
close arbour : it was of trees, whose branches so lovingly interlaced 
one the other that it could resist the' strongest violence of eye- 
sight, but she went into it by a door she opened, which moved 
him, as warily as he could, to follow her ; and by and by he might 
hear her sing this song, with a voice no less beautiful to his ears 
than her goodliness was full of harmony to his eyes : 

Transform'd in shew, but more transform'd in mind, 

I cease to strive with double conquest foil'd : 
For, woe is me, my powers all I find 

With outward force, and inward treason^ spoil'd. 
For from without came to mine eyes the blow, 

Whereto my inward thoughts did faintly yield ; 
Both these conspir'd poor reason's overthrow j 

False in myself, thus have I lost the field. 
Thus are my eyes still captive to one sight. 

Thus all my thoughts are slaves to one thought still : 
Thus reason to his servants yields his right, 

Thus is my power transformed to your will : 
What marvel then, I take a woman's hue, 
Since what I see, think, know, is all but you ? 

This ditty gave him some suspicion, but the voice gave him 
almost assurance who the singer was. And therefore boldly 
thrusting open the door and entering into the arbour, he perceived 
indeed that it was Pyrocles thus disguised ; wherewith not receiving 
so much joy to have found him as grief so to have found him, 
amazedly looking upon him (as Apollo is painted when he saw 
Daphne suddenly turned into a laurel) he was not able to bring 
forth a word. So that Pyrocles, (who had as much shame as 
Miisidorus had sorrow) rising to him, would have formed a 
substantial excuse, but his insinuation being of blushing, and his 
division of sighs, his whole oration stood upon a short narration 
what was the cause of this metamorphosis. But by that time 
Musidorus had gathered his spirits together, and yet casting a 
ghastful countenance upon him, as if he would conjure some 
strange spirit, he thus spake unto him : 

"And is it possible that this is Pyrocles, the only young prince 
in the world formed by nature, and framed by education to the true 
exercise of virtue ? or is it indeed some Amazon that hath counter- 
feited the face of my friend in this sort to vex me ? for likelier sure 
I would have thought it that any outward face might have been 
disguised than that the face of so excellent a mind could have been 
thus blemished. O sweet Pyrocles, separate yourself a little, if it 

fiooK 1.1 AfeCAt)lA ^9 

be possible, from yourself, and let your own mind look upon your 
own proceedings ; so shall my words be needless, and you best 
instructed. See with yourself how fit it will be for you in this your 
tender youth, born so great a prince, and of so rare not only 
expectation, but proof, desired of your old father, and wanted of 
your native country, now so near your home, to divert your 
thoughts from the way of goodness, to lose, nay, to abuse your time. 
Lastly, to overthrow all the excellent things you have done, which 
have filled the world with your fame ; as if you should drown your 
ship in the long desired haven ; or, like an ill player, should mar 
the last act of his tragedy. Remember, for I know you know it, 
that if we will be men the reasonable part of our soul is to have 
absolute commandment, against which, if any sensual weakness 
arise, we are to yield all our sound forces to the overthrowing of so 
unnatural a rebellion, wherein how can we want courage, since we 
are to deal against so weak an adversary that in itself is nothing 
but weakness ? nay, we are to resolve that if reason direct it we 
must do it ; and if we must do it, we will do it : for, to say ' I can- 
not,' is childish ; and ' I will not,' womanish. And see how 
extremely every way you can endanger your mind ; for, to take 
this womanish habit, without you frame your behavior accordingly, 
is wholly vain : your behaviour can never come kindly from you, 
but as the mind is proportioned unto it. So that you must resolve 
if you will play your part to any purpose, whatsoever peevish 
imperfections are in that sex to soften your heart to receive them, 
the very first down-step to all wickedness : for do not deceive 
yourself, my dear cousin, there is no man suddenly either ex- 
cellently good or extremely evil, but grows either as he holds 
himself up in virtue, or lets himself slide to viciousness. And let 
us see what power is the author of all these troubles ; forsooth love, 
love, a passion, and the basest and fruitlessest of all passions : fear 
breedeth wit ; anger is the cradle of courage ; joy openeth and 
enableth the heart ; sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inward 
to look to the correcting of itself ; and so all of them generally have 
power towards some good by the direction of reason. But this 
bastard Love (for indeed the name of love is most unworthily 
applied to so hateful a humour) as it is engendered betwixt lust and 
idleness, as the matter it works upon is nothing but a certain base 
weakness which some gentle fools call a gentle heart ; as his ad- 
joined companions be unquietness, longings, fond comforts, faint 
discomforts, hopes, jealousies, ungrounded rages, causeless yielding, 
so is the highest end it aspires unto, a little pleasure with much 
pain before and great repentance after. But that end, how endless 
it runs into infinite evils, were fit enough for the matter we speak 
of, but not for your ears, in whom, indeed, there is so much true 

6o ARCADIA tsooK i. 

disposition to virtue ; yet this much of his worthy effects in your- 
self is to be seen, that ('besides your breaking laws of hospitality 
with Kalander, and of friendship with me) it utterly subverts the 
course of nature in making reason give place to sense, and man to 
woman. And truly I think hereupon it first got the name of love : 
for indeed the true love hath that excellent nature in it, that it doth 
transform the very essence of the lover into the thing loved, 
uniting, and as it were, incorporating it with a secret and inward 
working. And herein do these kinds of loves imitate the excellent : 
for, as the love of heaven makes one heavenly, the love of virtue, 
virtuous, so doth the love of the world make one become worldly : 
and this effeminate love of a woman doth so womanize a man, 
that, if he yield to it, it will not only make him an Amazon, but a 
launder, a distaff, a spinner, or whatsoever other vile occupation 
their idle heads can imagine and their weak hands perform. There- 
fore to trouble you no longer with my tedious, but loving words, if 
either you remember what you are, what you have been, or what 
you must be, if you consider what it is that moved you, or by 
what kind of creature you are moved, you shall find the cause so 
small, the effect so dangerous, yourself so unworthy to run into 
the one, or to be driven by the other, that I doubt not I shall 
quickly have occasion rather to praise you for having conquered 
it, than to give you further counsel how to do it." 

But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more but that he, who 
before he was espied was afraid, after being perceived, was 
ashamed, now being hardly rubbed upon, left both fear and shame, 
and was moved to anger. But the exceeding goodwill he bore to 
Musidorus striving with it, he thus partly to satisfy him, but prin- 
cipally to loose the reins to his own motions, made him answer ; 
" Cousin ! whatsoever good disposition nature hath bestowed upon 
me, or however that disposition hath been by bringing up con- 
firmed, this I must confess, that I am not yet come to that degree 
of wisdom to think light of the sex of whom I have my life, since if 
I be anything, which your friendship rather finds than I acknow- 
ledge, I was, to come to it, born of a woman, and nursed of a 
woman. And certainly, for this point of your speech doth nearest 
touch me, it is strange to see the unmanlike cruelty of mankind, 
who, not content with their tyrannous ambition to have brought the 
others virtuous patience under them, like childish masters, think 
thfeir masterhood nothing without doing injury to them, who, if we 
will argue by reason, are framed of nature with the same parts of 
the mind for the exercise of virtue as we are. And for example, 
even this estate of Amazons, which I now for my greatest honour 
do seek to counterfeit, doth well witness that if generally the 
sweetness of their disposition did not make them see the vainness 


of these things which we account glorious, they neither want 
valour of mind, nor yet doth their fairness take away their force. 
And truly we men, and praisers of men, should remember that if 
we have such excellencies, it is reason to think them excellent 
creatures, of whom we are : since a kite never brought forth a good 
flying hawk. But to tell you true, as I think it superfluous to use 
any words of such a subject which is so praised in itself as it needs 
no praises ; so withal, I fear, lest my conceit, not able to reach unto 
them, bring forth words which for their unworthiness may be a 
disgrace to them I so inwardly honour. Let this suffice that they 
are capable of virtue, and virtue, you yourselves say, is to be loved, 
and I too, truly ; but this I willingly confess, that it likes me 
much better when I find virtue in a fair lodging than when I am 
bound to seek it in an ill-favoured creature, like a pearl in a dung- 
hill. As for my fault of being an uncivil guest to Kalander, if you 
could feel what an inward guest myself am host unto, ye would 
think it were excusable, in that I rather perform the duties of an 
host than the ceremonies of a guest. And for my breaking the 
laws of friendship with you, which I would rather die than effect- 
ually do, truly I could find it in my heart to ask you pardon for 
it, but that your now handling of me gives me reason to con- 
firm my former dealing." 

And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breathe himself, having been 
transported with a little vehemency, because it seemed him 
Mufidorus had over-bitterly glanced against the reputation of 
woman-kind : but then quieting his countenance, as well as out 
of an unquiet mind it might be, he thus proceeded on ; " And poor 
love," said he, "dear cousin, is little beholding unto you, since 
you are not content to spoil it of the honour of the highest power 
of the mind which notable men have attributed unto it ; but you 
deject it below all other passions, in truth somewhat strangely, 
since, if love receive any disgrace, it is by the company of these 
passions you prefer before it. For those kinds of bitter objections 
as that lust, idleness, and a weak heart should be, as it were, the 
matter and form of love, rather touch me, dear Mufidorus, than 
love ; but I am good witness of my own imperfections, and there- 
fore will not defend myself: but herein I must say you deal 
contrary to yourself : for if I be so weak, then can you not with 
reason stir me up as you did by remembrance of my own virtue ; 
or if indeed I be virtuous, then must ye confess that love hath his 
working in a virtuous heart ; and so no doubt hath it, whatsoever 
I be : for, if we love virtue, in whom shall we love it but in a 
virtuous creature? without your meaning be, I should love this 
word Virtue, where I see it written in a book. Those troublesome 
effects you say it breeds be npt the faults of love, but of him th^t 


loves, as an unable vessel to bear such a liquor, like evil eyes not 
able to look on the sun ; or like a weak brain, soonest overthrown 
with the best wine. Even that heavenly love you speak of is 
accompanied in some hearts with hopes, griefs, longings, and 
despairs. And in that heavenly love, since there are two parts, 
the one the love itself, the other the excellency of the thing loved : 
I, not able at the first leap to frame both in me, do now, like a 
diligent workman, make ready the chief instrument and first part 
of that great work, which is love itself; which when I have a while 
practised in this sort, then you shall see me turn it to greater 
matters. And thus gently you may, if it please you, think of me. 
Neither doubt ye, because I wear a woman's apparal, I will be the 
more womanish, since I assure you, for all my apparel, there is 
nothing I desire more than fully to prove myself a man in this 
enterprise. Much might be said in my defence, much more for 
love, and most of all for that divine creature which hath joined 
me and love together. But these disputations are fitter for quiet 
schools than my troubled brains, which are bent rather in deeds 
to perform than in words to defend the noble desire that possesseth ■ 
me." "O lord," said Musidorus, "how sharp-witted you are to 
hurt yourself." "No," answered he, "but it is the hurt you speak 
of which makes me so sharp-witted." " Even so," said Musidorus, 
" as every base occupation makes one sharp in that practice and 
foolish in all the rest." "Nay rather," answered Pyrocles, "as 
each excellent thing once well-learned serves for a measure of all 
other knowledges." "And is that become," said Musidorus, "a 
measure for other things which never received measure in itself?" 
" It is counted without measure," answered Pjn-ocles, " because the 
workings of it are without measure, but otherwise, in nature it hath 
measure, since it hath an end alloted unto it." The beginning, 
being so excellent, I would gladly know the end. "Enjoying," 
answered Pyrocles, with a sigh, " I speak of the end to which it 
is directed which end ends not, no sooner than the life." " Alas ! 
let your own brain disenchant you," said Musidorus. " My heart is 
too far possessed," said Pyrocles. "But the head gives you 
direction, and the heart gives me life," answered Musidorus. 

But Musidorus was so grieved to see his well-beloved friend 
obstinate, as he thought, to his own destruction, that it forced him 
with more than accustomed vehemency to speak these words. 
"Well, well," said he, "you list to abuse yourself; it was a very 
white and red virtue, which you could pick out of a painterly 
glose of a visage. Confess the truth, and you shall find the 
utmost was but beauty, a thing, which though it be in as great 
exellency in yourself as may be in any, yet I am sure you make 
no further reckoning of it than of an outward fading benefit nature 


bestowed upon you. And yet such is your want of a true grounded 
virtue, which must be like itself in all points, that what you wisely 
account a trifle in yourself, you fondly become a slave unto in 
another. For my part I now protest I have left nothing unsaid 
which my wit could make me know, or my most entire friendship 
to you requires of me. I do not beseech you, even for the love 
betwixt us, if this other love hath left any in you towards me, and 
for the remembrance of your old careful father (if you can 
remember him that forgot yourself) lastly, for Pyrocles' own sake, 
who is now upon the point of falling or rising, to purge yourself of 
this vile infection : otherwise give me leave to leave off this name 
of friendship as an idle title of a thing which cannot be where 
virtue is not established." 

The length of these speeches before had not so much cloyed 
Pyrocles, though he were very impatient of long deliberations, as 
this last farewell of him he loved as his own life did wound his 
soul. For thinking himself afiflicted, he was the apter to conceive 
unkindness deeply, insomuch that shaking his head, and delivering 
some show of tears, he thus uttered his grief : " Alas ! " said he, 
" Prince Musidorus, how cruelly you deal with me ; if you seek the 
victory, take it ; and, if ye list, the triumph. Have you all the 
reason of the world, and with me remain all the imperfections ; 
yet such as I can no more lay from me, than the crow can be per- 
suaded by the swan to cast off all his black feathers. But truly 
you deal with me like a physician who, seeing his patient in a 
pestilent fever, should chide him instead of ministering help, and 
bid him be sick no more ; or rather like such a friend, that visiting 
his friend condemned to perpetual prison, and laden with grievous 
fetters, should will him to shake off his fetters, or he would leave 
him. I am sick, and sick to the death ; I am prisoner, neither is 
there any redress but by her to whom I am a slave. Now, if you 
list, leave him that loves you in the highest degree : but remember 
ever to carry this with you, that you abandon your friend in his 
greatest extremity.'' 

And herewith the deep wound of his love being rubbed afresh 
with this new unkindness, began, as it were, to bleed again in such 
sort that he was unable to bear it any longer, but gushing out 
abundance of tears, and crossing his arms over his woeful heart, 
he sunk down to the ground, which sudden trance went so to the 
heart of Musidorus, that falling down by him, and kissing the 
weeping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make account 
of his speech, which if it had been over-vehement, yet was it to 
be borne withal, because it came out of a love much more 
vehement, that he had not thought fancy could have received 
so deep a wound ; but now finding in him the force of it, he would 

64 ARCADIA [book i. 


no further contrary it but employ all his service to medicine it 
in such sort as the nature of it required. But even this kindness 
made Pyrocles the more to melt in the former unkindness, which 
his manlike tears well shewed, with a silent look upon Musidorus, 
as who should say : " And is it possible that Musidorus should 
threaten to leave me ? " and this struck Musidorus's mind and senses 
so dumb, too, that for grief being not able to say anything, they 
rested with their eyes placed one upon the other, in such sort as 
might well paint out the true passion of unkindness to be never 
aright, but betwixt them that most dearly love. 

And thus remained they a time, till at length Musidorus em- 
bracing him, said " And will you thus shake off your friend ? " "It 
is you that shake me off," said Pyrocles, " being for my unperfectness 
unworthy of your friendship." " But this," said Musidorus, " shows 
you more unperfect to be cruel to him that submits himself unto 
you. But since you are unperfect," said he, smiling, "it is 
reason you be governed by us wise and perfect men. And that 
authority will I begin to take upon me, with three absolute com- 
mandments : the first, that you increase not your evil with fiirther 
griefs : the second, that you love her with all the powers of your 
mind : and the last commandment shall be, you command me to 
do what service I can towards the attaining of your desires." 
Pyrocles's heart was not so oppressed with the two mighty passions 
of love and unkindness but that it yielded to some mirth at this 
commandment of Musidorus that he should love, so that something 
clearing his face from his former shows of grief : " Well," said he, 
" dear cousin ! I see by the well choosing of your commandments 
that you are far fitter to be a prince than a counsellor, and therefore 
I am resolved to employ all my endeavour to obey you, with this 
condition, that the commandments ye command me to lay upon 
you shall only be, that you continue to love me, and look upon my 
imperfections with more affection than judgment." "Love you," 
said he, " alas ! how can my heart be separated from the true em- 
bracing of it without it burst by being too full of it ?" " But," said 
he, " let us leave off these flowers of new begun friendship : and 
now I pray you again tell me, but tell it me fully, omitting no 
circumstance, the story of your affections, both beginning and 
proceeding, assuring yourself, that there is nothing so great which 
I will fear to do for you, nor nothing so small which I vdll disdain 
to do for you. Let me, therefore, receive a clear understanding, 
which many times we miss, while those things we account small, 
as a speech or a look, are omitted, like as a whole sentence may 
fail of his congruity by wanting one particle. Therefore between 
friends all must be laid open, nothing being superfluous nor 
tedious." "You shall be obeyed," said Pyrocles, ' and here are 


we in as fit a place for it as may be ; for this arbour nobody offers 
to come into but myself, I using it as my melancholy retiring place, 
and therefore that respect is borne unto it : yet if by chance any 
should come, say that you are a servant sent from the queen of 
the Amazons to seek me, and then let me alone for the rest." So 
sat they down, and Pyrocles thus said : 

" Cousin ! " said he, " then began the fatal overthrow of all my 
liberty when, walking among the pictures in Kalander's house, 
you yourself delivered unto me what you had understood of 
Philoclea, who much resembling (though I must say much sur- 
passing) the lady Zelmane, whom so well I loved : there were 
mine eyes, infected, and at your mouth did I drink the poison. 
Yet alas ! so sweet was it unto me, that I could not be contented, 
till Kalander had made it more and more strong with his declaration. 
Which the more I questioned, the more pity I conceived of her 
unworthy fortune ; and when with pity once my heart was made 
tender, according to the aptness of the humour, it received quickly 
a cruel impression of that wonderful passion, which to be defined 
is impossible, because no words reach to the strange nature of it : 
they only know it, which inwardly feel it ; it is called love. Yet 
did I not (poor wretch !) at first know my disease, thinking it only 
such a wonted kind of desire to see rare fights, and my pity to be 
no other but the fruits of a gentle nature. But even this arguing 
with myself came of further thoughts, and the more I argued 
the more my thoughts increased. Desirous I was to see the place 
where she remained, as though the architecture of the lodges would 
have been much for my learning, but more desirous to see herself, 
to be judge, forsooth, of the painter's cunning. For thus at the 
first did I flatter myself, as though my wound had been no deeper : 
but when within short time I came to the degree of uncertain 
wishes, and that those wishes grew to unquiet longings, when 
I could fix my thoughts upon nothing but that within little varying 
they should end with Philoclea ; when each thing I saw seemed to 
figure out some part of my passions ; when even Parthenia's fair 
face became a lecture to me of Philoclea's imagined beauty ; when 
I heard no word spoken, but that methought it carried the sound 
of Philoclea's name ; then indeed, then I did yield to the burden, 
finding myself prisoner, before I had leisure to arm myself: and 
that I might well, like the spaniel, gnaw upon the chain that ties- 
him ; but I should sooner mar my teeth, than procure liberty : yet 
I take to witness the eternal spring of virtue, that I had never 
read, heard, nor seen anything : I had never any taste of philo- 
sophy, nor inward feeling in myself, which for a while I did not 
call to my succour. But, alas ! what resistance was there, when 
e'er long my very reason was, you will say, corrupted, I must 


66 ARCADIA [book i. 

confess, conquered, and that methought even reason did assure me 
that all eyes did degenerate from thdr creation which did not 
honour such beauty? nothing in truth could hold any plea with 
it but the reverend friendship I bear unto you. For as it went 
against my heart to break anyway from you, so did I fear, more 
than any assault, to break it to you : finding, as it is indeed, that 
to a heart fully resolute, counsel is tedious, but reprehension is 
loathsome : and that there is nothing more terrible to a guilty 
heart, than the eye of a respected friend. This made me determine 
with myself, thinking it a less fault in friendship to do a thing 
without your knowledge, than against your will, to take this secret 
course, which conceit was most builded up in me the last day of 
my parting and speaking with you, when upon your speech with 
me, and my but naming love, when else perchance I would have 
gone further, I saw your voice and countenance so change, as it 
assured me my revealing it should but purchase your grief with 
my cumber, and therefore (dear Musidorus !) even ran away from 
my well-known chiding : for having written a letter, which I know 
not whether you found or no, and taking my chief jewels with me, 
while you were in the midst of your sport, I got a time, as I think, 
unmarked by any, to steal away I cared not whither, so I might 
escape you, and so came I to Ithonia, in the province of Messenia, 
where, lying secret, I put this in practice, which before I had 
devised. For remembering by Philanax's letter and Kalander's 
speech, how obstinately Basilius was determined not to marry his 
daughters, and therefore fearing lest any public deahng should 
rather increase her captivity than further my love ; love (the refiner 
of invention) had put in my head thus to disguise myself, that 
under that mask 1 might, if it were possible, get access, and what 
access could bring forth commit to fortune and industry, deter- 
mining to bear the countenance of an Amazon. Therefore in the 
closest manner I could, naming myself Zelmane, for that dear 
lady's sake, to whose memory I am so much bound, I caused this 
apparel to be made, and bringing it near the lodges, which are 
hard at hand, by night thus dressed myself, resting till occasion 
might make me to be found by them whom I sought ; which the 
next morning happened as well as mine own plot could have laid 
it. For after I had run over the whole pedigree of my thoughts, 
I gave myself to sing a little, which, as you know, I ever delighted 
in, so now especially, whether it be the nature of this clime to 
stir up poetical fancies, or rather as I think, of love, whose scope 
being pleasure, will not so much as utter his griefs, but in some 
form of pleasure. 

" But I had sung very httle, when (as I think, displeased with 
my bad music) comes master Dametas with a hedging bill in his 


hand, chafing and swearing by the pantoffle of Pallas, and such 
other oaths as his rustical bravery could imagine ; and when he 
saw me, I assure you, my beauty was no more beholding to him 
than my harmony ; for leaning his hands upon his bill, and his 
chin upon his hands, with the voice of one that playeth Hercules 
in a play, but never had his fancy in his head, the first word he 
spake unto me, was, "Am not I Dametas? why am not I 
Dametas?" He needed not to name himself, for Kalander's 
description had let such a note upon him as made him very notable 
unto me ; and therefore the height of my thoughts would not 
descend so much as to make him answer, but continued on my 
inward discourses ; which he (perchance witness of his own 
unworthiness, and therefore the apter to think himself contemned) 
took in so heinous a manner, that standing upon his tiptoes, and 
staring as if he would have had a mote pulled out of his eye. 
" Why," said he, " thou woman or boy, or both, whatsoever thou 
be, I tell thee here is no place for thee, here is no place for thee, 
get thee gone, I tell thee it is the prince's pleasure, it is Dametas's 
pleasure." I could not choose but smile at him, seeing him look so 
like an ape that had newly taken a purgation ; yet taking myself 
with the manner, spake these words to myself: "O spirit," said I, 
" of mine, how canst thou receive any mirth in the midst of thine 
agonies? and thou mirth, how darest thou enter into a mind so 
grown of late thy professed enemy?" "Thy spirit," said Dametas, 
" dost thou think me a spirit ? I tell thee I am Basilius's officer, 
and have charge of him and his daughters." " O only pearl," said 
I sobbing, "that so vile an oyster should keep thee?" "By the 
comb case of Diana," sware Dametas, " this woman is mad : oysters 
and pearls ? dost thou think I will buy oysters ? I tell thee once 
again, get thee packing," and with that lifted up his bill to hit me 
with the blunt end of it ; but indeed that put me quite out of my 
lesson ; so that I forgot all Zelmaneship, and drawing out my sword, 
the baseness of the villain yet made me stay my hand, and he (who 
as Kalander told me, from his childhood ever feared the blade of a 
sword) ran back, backward, with his hands above his head at least 
twenty paces, gaping and staring with the very grace, I think, of 
the clowns that by Latona's prayers were turned into frogs. 

At length staying, finding himself without the compass of blows, 
he fell to a fresh scolding, in such mannerly manner, as might 
well show he had passed thro' the discipline of a tavern ; but 
seeing me walk up and down without marking what he said, he 
went his way, as I perceived after, to Basilius : for within a while 
he came unto me, bearing indeed shows in his countenance of an 
honest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much courtesy as 
Dametas with rudeness saluting me ; " Fair lady," said he, " it is 

68 ARCADIA [book i. 

nothing strange that such a solitary place as this should receive 
solitary persons, but much do I marvel how such a beauty as yours 
is should be suffered to be thus alone." I, that now knew it was 
my part to play, looking with a grave majesty upon him, as if I 
found in myself cause to be reverenced. " They are never alone," 
said I, " that are accompanied with noble thoughts." " But those 
thoughts," replied Basilius, " cannot in this your loneliness neither 
warrant you from suspicion in others, nor defend you from 
melancholy in yourself : " I then showing a mislike that he pressed 
me so far ; " I seek no better warrant," said I, " than my own 
conscience, nor no greater pleasure than my own contentation." 
"Yet virtue seeks to satisfy others," said Basilius. "Those that 
be good," said I, " and they will be satisfied as long as they see no 
evil ; " " Yet will the best in this country," said Basilius, " suspect 
so excellent beauty being so weakly guarded." "Then are the 
best but stark naught," answered I, "for open suspecting others, 
comes of secret condemning themselves : but in my country, whose 
manners I am in all places to maintain and reverence, the general 
goodness which is nourished in our hearts makes every one think 
the strength of virtue in another, whereof they find the assured 
foundation in themselves." "Excellent lady," said he, "you praise 
so greatly, and yet so wisely, your country that I must needs 
desire to know what the nest is out of which such birds do fly." 
"You must first deserve it," said I, "before you may obtain it." 
"And by what means," said Basilius, "shall I deserve to know 
your estate?" "By letting me first know yours," answered I. 
"To obey you," said he, "I will do it, although it were so much 
more reason yours should be known first, as you do deserve in all 
points to be preferred. Know you, fair lady, that my name is 
Basilius, unworthily lord of this country : the rest, either fame hath 
already brought to your ears, or (if it please you to make this place 
happy by your presence) at more leisure you shall understand of 
me : I that from the beginning assured myself it was he, but would 
not seem I did so, to keep my gravity the better, making a piece 
of reverence unto him ; " Mighty prince," said I, " let my not 
knowing you serve for the excuse of my boldness, and the little 
reverence I do you impute to the manner of my country, which is 
the invincible land of the Amazons : myself neice to Senicia, queen 
thereof, lineally descended of the famous Penthesilea, slain by the 
bloody hand of Pyrrhus : I having, in this my youth determined to 
make the world see the Amazons excellencies, as well in private as 
in public virtue, have passed some dangerous adventures in 
divers countries, till the unmerciful sea deprived me of my 
company ; so that shipwreck casting me not far hence, uncertain 
wandering brought me to this place." But Basilius (who now 


began to taste of that, which since he had swallowed up, as I will 
tell you) fell to more cunning intreating my abode, than any 
greedy host should use to well-paying passengers. I thought 
nothing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires ; yet had I 
learned already so much, that it was against my womanhood to be 
forward in my own wishes. And therefore he (to prove whether 
intercessions in fitter mouths might better prevail) commanded 
Dametas to bring forthwith his wife and daughters thither ; three 
ladies, although of diverse, yet of excellent beauty. 

"His wife in grave matron-like attire, with countenance and 
gesture suitable, and of such fairness, being in the strength of her 
age, as, if her daughters had not been by, might with just price 
have purchased admiration : but they being there, it was enough 
that the most dainty eye would think her a worthy mother of such 
children. The fair Pamela, whose noble heart I find doth greatly 
disdain that the trust of her virtue is reposed in such a lout's hands 
as Dametas, had yet, to show an obedience, taken on shepherdish 
apparel, which was but of russet-cloth cut after their fashion, with 
a straight body, open breasted, the nether part full of plaits, with 
long and wide sleeves : but believe me she did apparel her apparel, 
and with the preciousness of her body made it most sumptuous. 
Her hair at the full length, wound about with gold lace, only by 
the comparison to show how far her hair doth excel in colour : 
betwixt her breasts (which sweetly rose like two fair mountainets 
in the pleasant vale of Tempe) there hung a very rich diamond set 
but in a black horn ; the word I have since read is this, ' Yet still 
myself.' And thus particularly have I described them because 
you may know that mine eyes are not so partial but that I marked 
them too. But when the ornament of the earth, the model of 
heaven, the triumph of nature, the life of beauty, the queen of love, 
young Philoclea appeared in her nymph-like apparel, so near 
nakedness as one might well discern part of her perfections, and 
yet so apparelled as did show she kept best store of her beauty to 
herself : her hair (alas too poor a word, why should I not rather 
call them her beams) drawn up into a net, able to have caught 
Jupitor when he was in the form of an eagle ; her body (O sweet 
body !) covered with a light taifeta garment, so cut as the wrought 
smock came through it in many places, enough to have made 
your restrained imagination have thought what was under it : with 
the cast of her black eyes, black indeed, whether nature so made 
them, that we might be the more able to behold and bear their 
wonderful shining, or that she, goddess-like, would work this 
miracle with herself in giving blackness the price above all beauty. 
Then, I say, indeed methought the lilies grew pale for envy ; the 
roses methought blushed to see sweeter roses in her cheeks ; and 

76 ARCADIA tBoofc t. 

the apples methought fell down from the trees to do homage to 
the apples of her breast ; then the clouds gave place, that the 
heavens might more freely smile upon her, at the least the clouds 
of my thought quite vanished, and my sight, then more clear and 
forcible than ever, was so fixed there, that, I imagine, I stood like 
a well-wrought image with some life in show but none in practice. 
And so had I been like enough to have stayed long time but that 
Gynecia stepping between my sight and the only Philoclea, the 
change of object made me recover my senses, so that I could with 
reasonable good manner receive the salutation of her, and of the 
Princess Pamela, doing them yet no further reverence than one 
princess useth to another. But when I came to the never enough 
praised Philoclea, I could not but fall down on my knees, and 
taking by force her hand, and kissing it, I must confess with more 
than womanly ardency, ' Divine lady,' said I, ' let not the world, 
nor those great princesses, marvel to see me, contrary to my 
manner, do this special honour unto you, since all both men and 
women, do owe this to the perfection of your beauty.' But, she 
blushing like a fair morning in May at this my singularity, and 
causing me to rise, ' Noble lady,' said she, ' it is no marvel to see 
your judgment much mistaken in my beauty since you begin with 
so great an error as to do more honour unto me than to them, to 
whom I myself owe all service.' 'Rather,' answered I, with a 
bowed down countenance, ' that shows the power of your beauty 
which forced me to do such an error, if it were an error.' ' You 
are so well acquainted,' said she sweetly, most sweetly smiling, 
' with your own beauty, that it makes you easily fall into the dis- 
course of beauty.' 'Beauty in me?' (said I, truly sighing) ' alas ! 
if there be any it is in my eyes, which your blessed presence hath 
imparted unto them.' 

" But then, as I think Basilius willing her so to do, ' Well,' said 
she, ' I must needs confess I have heard tbat it is a great happiness 
to be praised of them that are most praiseworthy : and well I find 
that you are an invincible Amazon since you will overcome, though 
in a wrong matter. But if my beauty be anything, then let it 
obtain thus much of you, that you will remain some while in this 
company to ease your own travel and our solitariness.' ' First let 
me die,' said I, ' before any word spoken by such a mouth should 
come in vain.' And thus with some other words of entertaining 
was my staying concluded, and I led among them to the lodge ; 
truly a place for pleasantness, not unfit to flatter solitariness, for, it 
being set upon such an unsensible rising of the ground as you are 
come to a pretty height before almost you perceive that you 
ascend, it gives the eye lordship over a good large circuit, which 
according to the nature of the country, being diversified between 

hooK 1.3 Arcadia ^t 

hills and dales, woods and plains, one place more clear, another 
more darksome, it seems a pleasant picture of nature, with lovely 
lightsomeness and artificial shadows. The lodge is of a yellow 
stone, built in tbe form of a star, having round about a garden 
framed into like points ; and beyond the garden ridings cut out, 
each answering the angles of the lodge : at the end of one of them 
is the other smaller lodge, but of like fashion, where the gracious 
Pamela liveth ; so that the lodge seemeth not unlike a fair comet, 
whose tail stretcheth itself to a star of less greatness. 

So Gynecia herself bringing me to my lodging, anon after I was 
invited and brought down to sup with them in the garden, a place 
not fairer in natural ornaments than artificial inventions, where, in 
a banqueting-house, among certain pleasant trees, whose heads 
seemed curled with the wrappings about of vin^ branches, the 
table was set near to an excellent water-works ; for, by the casting 
of the water in most cunning manner, it makes, with the shining of 
the sun upon it, a perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye 
than to the mind, so sensibly to see the proof of the heavenly Iris. 
There were birds also made so finely that they did not only 
deceive the sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs, 
which the watery instruments made their gorge deliver. The table 
at which we sat was round, which being fast to the floor whereon 
we sat, and that divided from the rest of the buildings, with turning 
a vice, which Basilius at first did to make me sport, the table, and 
we about the table, did all turn round by means of water which ran 
under and carried it about as a mill. But alas ! what pleasure did 
it to me to make divers times the full circle round about, since 
Philoclea, being also set, was carried still in equal distance from 
me, and that only my eyes did overtake her ? which, when the table 
was stayed, and we began to feed, drank much more eagerly of 
her beauty than my mouth did of any other liquor. And so was 
my common sense deceived, being chiefly bent to her, that as I 
drank the viane, and withal stole a look on her, me seemed I tasted 
her deliciousness. But alas ! the one thirst was much more 
inflamed than the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would lay 
themselves open to receive all the darts she did throw ; sometimes 
close up with admiration, as if with a contrary fancy, they would 
preserve the riches of that sight they had gotten, or cast my lids as 
curtains over the image of beauty her presence had painted in 
them. True it is, that my reason, now grown a servant to passion, 
did yet often tell his master that he should more moderately use 
his delight. But he, that of a rebel was become a prince, 
disdained almost to allow him the place of a counsellor ; 
so that my senses delights being too strong for any other 
resolution, I did even loose the reins unto them, hoping that, 

;2 ARCADIA [book t. 

going for a woman, my looks would pass either unmarked or 

" Now thus I had, as methought, well played my first act, assur- 
ing myself that under that disguisement I should find opportunity 
to reveal myself to the owner of my heart. But who would think 
it possible, though I feel it true, that in almost eight weeks' space I 
have lived here, having no more company but her parents, and I 
being a familiar, as being a woman, and watchful, as being a 
lover, yet could never find opportunity to have one minute's leisure 
of private conference : the cause whereof is as strange as the effects 
are to me miserable. And (alas !) this it is. 

"At the first sight that Basilius had of me, I think Cupid having 
headed his arrows with my misfortune, he was stricken, taking me 
to be such as I profess, with great affection towards me, which 
since is grown to such a doting love that till I was fain to get this 
place sometimes to retire unto freely, I was even choked with his 
tediousness. You never saw four score years dance up and down 
more lively in a young lover ; now, as fine in his apparel, as if he 
would make me in love with a cloak, and verse for verse with the 
sharpest-witted lover in Arcadia. Do you not think that is a sallet 
of wormwood ; while mine eyes feed upon the Ambrosia of 
Philoclea's beauty ? but this is not all ; no, this is not the worst : 
for he, good man, were easy enough to be dealt with, but, as I think, 
love and mischief having made a wager which should have most 
power in me, have set Gynecia also on such a fire toward me, as 
will never, I fear, be quenched but with my destruction. For, she 
being a woman of excellent wit and of strong working thoughts, 
whether she suspected me by my over-vehement shows of affection 
to Philoclea (which love forced me unwisely to utter, while hope of 
my mask foolishly encouraged me) or that she hath taken some 
other mark of me, that I am not a woman ; or what devil it is hath 
revealed it unto her, I know not : but so it is, that all her counten- 
ances, words, and gestures are even miserable portraitures of a 
desperate affection. Whereby a man may learn that these avoid- 
ings of company do but make the passions more violent when they 
meet with fit subjects. Truly it were a notable dumb show of Cupid's 
kingdom, to see my eyes, languishing with over vehement longing, 
direct themselves to Philoclea ; and Basilius, as busy about me as 
a bee, and indeed as cumbersome, making such vehement suits to 
me, who neither could if I would, nor would if I could, help him, 
while the terrible wit of Gynecia, carried with the beer of violent 
love, runs through us all. And so jealous is.she of my love to her 
daughter that I could never yet begin to open my mouth to the 
unevitable Philoclea but that her unwished presence gave my tale 
a conclusion before it had a beginning. And surely, if I be not 

fiooK t.] ARCADIA 73 

deceived, I see such shows of liking, and, if I be acquainted with 
passions, of almost a passionate liking in the heavenly Philoclea 
towards me, that I may hope her ears would not abhor my discourse. 
And for good Basilius, he thought it best to have lodged us to- 
gether, but that the eternal hatefulness of my destiny made 
Gynecia's jealousy stop that, and all other my blessings. Yet 
must I confess that one way her love doth me pleasure, for since it 
was my foolish fortune, or unfortunate folly, to be known by her, 
that keeps her from betraying me to Basilius. And thus, my 
Musidorus, you have my tragedy played unto you by myself, which 
I pray the gods may not indeed prove a tragedy." And therewith 
he ended, making a full point of a hearty sigh. 

Musidorus recommended to his best discourse, all which 
Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricateness 
that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze ; yet per- 
ceiving his affection so grounded that striving against it did rather 
anger than heal the wound, and rather call his friendship in 
question than give place- to any friendly counsel : " Well," said he, 
" dear cousin ! since it hath pleased the gods to mingle your other 
excellencies with this humour of love, yet happy it is, that your 
love Is employed upon so rare a woman : for certainly a noble 
cause doth ease much a grievous case. But as it stands now, 
nothing vexeth me, as that I cannot see wherein I can be service- 
able unto you." " I desire no greater service of you," answered 
Pyrocles, " than that you remain secretly in this country, and some- 
times come to this place, either late in the night or early in the 
morning, where you shall have my key to enter, because as my 
fortune either amends or impairs, I may declare it unto you, and 
have your counsel and furtherance : and hereby I will of purpose 
lead her, that is the praise, and yet the stain of all womankind, 
that you may have so good a view, as to allow my judgment ; and 
as I can get the most convenient time, I will come unto you ■ 
for, though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the lodge 
it is hard at hand. But now," said she, " it is time for me to leave 
you, and towards evening we will walk out of purpose hitherward 
therefore .keep yourself close till that time." But Musidorus, be- 
thinking himself that his horse might happen to betra:y him 
thought it best to return for that day to a village not far off, and 
dispatching his horse in some sort, the next day early to come 
a foot thither, and so to keep that course afterward which Pyrocles 
very well liked of. "Now farewell, dear cousin," said he, "from 
me, no more Pyrocles nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane : Zelmane 
is my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the only hope of my 
advancement." And with that word going out, and seeing 
that the coast was clear, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus, who 


departed as foil of care to help his friend as before he was to 
dissuade him. 

Zelmane returned to the lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea, 
watched by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a horse 
desirous to run, and miserably spurred, but so short reined as he 
cannot stir forward. Zelmane sought occasion to speak with 
. Philoclea ; Basilius with Zelmane ; and Gynecia hindered them 
all. If. Philoclea happened to sigh, and sigh she did often, as if 
that sigh were to be waited on, Zelmane sighed also, whereto 
Basilius and Gynecia soon made up four parts of sorrow. Their 
affection increased their conversation, and their conversation 
increased their affection. The respect borne bred due ceremonies, 
but the affection shined so through them, that the ceremonies 
seemed not ceremonies. Zelmane's eyes were (like children before 
sweetmeat) eager, but fearful of their ill-pleasing governors. Time, 
in one instant, seeming both short and long unto them : short, in the 
pleasingness of such presence ; long, in the stay of their desires. 

But Zelmane failed not to entice them all many times abroad 
because she was desirous her friend Musidorus, near whom of 
purpose she led them, might have full sight of them. Sometimes 
angling to a little river near hand, which, for the moisture it 
bestowed upon the roots of flourishing trees, was rewarded with 
their shadow. There would they sit down, and pretty wagers be 
made between Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile 
silly fishes, while Zelmane protested that the fit prey for them was 
hearts of princes. She also had an angle in her hand, but the 
taker was so taken that she had forgotten taking. Basihus in the 
meantime would be the cook himself of what was so caught, and 
Gynecia sit still, but with no still pensiveness. Now she brought 
them to see a seeled dove, who, the blinder she was, the higher 
she strove. Another time a kite, which having a gut cunningly 
pulled out of her, and so let fly, caused all the kites in that quarter, 
who, as oftentimes the world is deceived, thinking her prosperous 
when indeed she was wounded, made the poor kite find that opinion 
of riches may well be dangerous. 

But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more 
gallant show ; for one evening, as Basilius returned from having 
forced his thoughts to please themselves in such small conquest, 
there came a shepherd who brought him word that a gentleman 
desired leave to do a message from his lord unto him. Basilius 
granted, whereupon the gentleman came, and after the dutiful 
ceremonies observed in his master's name, told him that he was 
sent from Phalantus of Corinth to crave licence that, as he had 
done in many other courts, so he might in his presence defy all 
Arcadian knights in the behalf of his mistress's beauty who would 

6ooK I.J AfeCAOlA fS 

besides herself in person be present to give evident proof what his 
lance should affirm. The conditions of his challenge were that the 
defendant should bring his mistress's picture, which being set by 
the image of Artesia, so was the mistress of Phalantus named, who 
in six courses should have the better of the other in the judgment 
of Basilius, with him both the honours and the pictures should 
remain. Basilius (though he had retired himself into that solitary 
dwelling, with intention to avoid, rather than to accept any matters 
of drawing company, yet because he would entertain Zelmane that 
she might not think the time so gainful to him loss to her) granted 
him to pitch his tent for three days not far from the lodge, and to 
proclaim his challenge that what Arcadian knight, for none else 
but upon his peril was licensed to come, would defend what he 
honoured against Phalantus, should have the like freedom of access 
and return. 

This obtained and published, Zelmane being desirous to learn 
what this Phalantus was, having never known him further than by 
report of his good justing, in so much as he was commonly called, 
" The fair man of arms " ; Basilius told her that he had had occasion 
by one very inward with him to know in part the discourse of his 
life, which was, that he was a bastard brother to the fair Helen 
queen of Corinth, and dearly esteemed of her for his exceeding 
good parts, being honourably courteous, and wronglessly valiant, 
considerately pleasant in conversation, and an excellent courtier 
without unfaithfulness, who, finding his sister's unpersuadable 
melancholy, through the love of Amphialus, had for a time left her 
court, and gone into Laconia, where, in the war against the Helots, 
he had gotten the reputation of one that both durst and knew. 
But as it was rather choice than nature that led him to matters of 
arms, so as soon as the spur of honour ceased, he willingly rested 
in peaceable delights, being beloved in all companies for his lovely 
qualities, and, as a man may term it, winning cheerfulness ; whereby 
to the prince and court of Laconia, none was more agreeable than 
Phalantus : and he not given greatly to struggle with his own 
disposition, followed the gentle current of it, having a fortune 
sufficient to content, and he content with a sufficient fortune. But 
in that court he saw, and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose 
beauty he now defends, became her servant, said himself, and 
perchance thought himself her lover. "But certainly," said 
Basilius, "many times it falls out that these young companions 
make themselves believe they love at their first liking of a likely 
beauty ; loving, because they will love for want of other business, 
not because they feel indeed that divine power which makes the 
heart find a reason in passion, and so, God knows, as inconstantly 
leave upon the next chance that beauty casts before them. So 

76 ARCADIA [sook i. 

therefore taking love upon him like a fashion, he courted this lady 
Artesia, who was as fit to pay him in his own money as might be : 
for she thinketh she did wrong to her beauty if she were not proud 
of it, called her disdain of him chastity, and placed her honour in 
little setting by his honouring her, determining never to marry but 
him whom she thought worthy of her, and that was one in whom 
all worthinesses were harboured. And to this conceit not only 
nature had bent her, but the bringing-up she received at by her Sister- 
in-law Cecropia had confirmed her, who having in her widowhood 
taken this young Artesia into her charge, because her father had 
been a dear friend of her dear husband's, had taught her to think 
that there is no wisdom but in including both heaven and earth in 
oneself; and that love, courtesy, gratefulness, friendship, and all 
other virtues are rather to be taken on than taken in oneself. 
And so good a disciple she found of her that, liking the fruits of 
her own planting, she was content if so her son could have liked 
of it, to have wished her in marriage to my nephew Amphialus. 
But I think that desire hath lost some of his heat since she hath 
known that such a queen as Helen is, doth offer so great a price 
as a kingdom, to buy his favour ; for, if I be not deceived in my 
good sister Cecropia, she thinks no face so beautiful, as that which 
looks under a crown. But Artesia indeed liked well of my nephew 
Amphialus : For I can never deem that love, which in haughty 
hearts proceeds of a desire only to please, and, as it were, peacock 
themselves ; but yet she hath showed vehemency of desire that 
way, I think because all her desires be vehement, insomuch that 
she hath both placed her only brother, a fine youth, called Ismenus, 
to be his 'squire, and herself is content to wait upon my sister till 
she may see the uttermost what she may work in Amphialus ; who 
being of a melancholy (though, I must say, truly courteous and 
noble) mind, seems to love nothing less than love, and of late, 
having through some adventure, or inward miscontentment, with- 
drawn himself from anybody's knowledge, where he is ; Artesia 
the easier condescended to go to the court of Laconia, whither she 
was sent for by the king's wife, to whom she is somewhat allied. 

" And there, after the war of the Helots, this knight Phalantus, 
at least for tongue-delight, made himself her servant, and she, so 
little caring as not to show mislike thereof, was content only to be 
noted to have a notable servant. For truly one in my court, nearly 
acquainted with him, within these few days made me a pleasant 
description of their love, while he with cheerful looks would speak 
sorrowful words, using the phrase of his affection in so high a style, 
that Mercury would not have wooed Venus with more magnificent 
eloquence ; but else, neither in behaviour, nor action, accusing in 
himself any great trouble in mind whether he sped or no. And 


she, on the other side, well finding how little it was, and not caring 
for more, yet taught him that often it falleth out but a foolish 
witness to speak more than one thinks. 

" For she made earnest benefit of his jest, forcing him in respect 
of his profession to her such services as were both cumbersome 
and costly unto him, while he still thought he went beyond her 
because his heart did not commit the idolatry. So that lastly, she, 
I think, having mind to make the fame of her beauty an orator for 
her to Amphialus (persuading herself, perhaps, that it might fall 
out in him as it doth in some that have delightful meat before 
them, and have no stomach to it, before other folks praise it) she 
took the advantage one day, upon Phalantus's unconscionable 
praising of her, and certain cast-away vows how much he would 
do for her sake, to arrest his word as soon as it was out of his 
mouth, and by the virtue thereof to charge him to go with her thro' 
all the courts of Greece, and with the challenge now made to give 
her beauty the principality over all other. Phalantus was 
entrapped, and saw round about him, but could not get out. 
Exceedingly perplexed he was, as he confessed to him that told 
me the tale, not for doubt he had of himself (for indeed he had 
little cause, being accounted, with his lance especially, whereupon 
the challenge is to be tried as perfect as any that Greece knoweth) 
but because he feared to offend his sister Helen, and withal, as he 
said, he could not so much believe his love but that he must think 
in his heart, whatsoever his mouth afifirmed, that both she, my 
daughters, and the fair Parthenia (wife to a most noble gentleman, 
my wife's near kinsman) might far better put in their claim for that 
prerogative. But his promise had bound him prentice, and 
therefore it was now better with willingness to purchase thanks 
than with a discontented doing to have the pain and not the 
reward ; and therefore went on as his faith, rather than love, did 
lead him. And now hath he already passed the courts of Laconia, 
Elis, Argos, and Corinth : And, as many times it happens that a 
good pleader makes a bad cause to prevail, so hath his lance 
brought captives to the triumph of Artesia's beauty, such, as though 
Artesia be among the fairest, yet in that company were to have the 
pre-eminence : For in those courts many knights that had been 
in other far countries defended such as they had seen and liked in 
their travel : But their defence had been such that they had forfeited 
the pictures of their ladies to give a forced false testimony to 
Artesia's excellency. And now, lastly, is he come hither, where 
he hath leave to try his fortune. But I assure you, if I thought 
it not in due and true consideration an injurious service and 
churlish courtesy to put the danger of so noble a title in the 
deciding of such a dangerless combat, I would make young master 

78 ARCADIA [book i. 

Phalantus know that your eyes can shai-pen a blunt lance, and that 
age, which my gray hairs, only gotten by the loving care of others, 
makes seem more than it is, hath not diminished in me the power 
to protect an undeniable verity." With that he bustled up himself, 
as though his heart would fain have walked abroad. Zelmane with 
an inward smiling gave him outward thanks, desiring him to 
reserve his force for worthier causes. 

So passing their time according to their wont, they waited for 
the coming of Phalantus, who the next morning having already 
caused his tents to be pitched near to a fair tree hard by the lodge, 
had upon the tree made a shield to be hanged up, which the 
defendant should strike that would call him to the maintaining his 
challenge. The Impressa in the shield was a heaven full of stars, 
with a speech signifying that it was the beauty which gave the 
praise. Himself came in next after a triumphant chariot made of 
carnation-velvet, enriched with purple and pearl, wherein Artesia 
sat, drawn by four winged horses with artificial flaming mouths 
and fiery wings, as if she had newly borrowed them of Phoebus. 
Before her marched, two after two, certain footmen pleasantly 
attired, who between them held one picture after another of them, 
that by Phalantus well running had lost the prize in the race of 
beauty, and at every pace they stayed, turned the pictures to each 
side so leisurely that with perfect judgment they might be discerned. 
The first that came in, following the order of the time wherein they 
had been won, was the picture of Andromana, queen of Iberia, 
whom a Laconian knight, having some time, and with special ' 
favour, served, though some years since returned home, with more 
gratefulness than good fortune defended. But therein Fortune 
had borrowed wit ; for indeed she was not comparable to Artesia, 
not because she was a good deal older, for time had not yet been 
able to impoverish her store thereof, but an exceeding red hair 
with small eyes, did, like ill companions, disgrace the other 
assembly of most commendable beauties. 

Next after her was borne the counterfeit of the Princess of EUs, 
a lady that taught the beholders no other point of beauty, but this : 
That as liking is not always the child of beauty, so whatsoever 
liketh is beautiful ; for in that visage there was neither majesty, 
grace, favour, nor fairness ; yet she wanted not a servant that 
would have made her fairer than the fair Artesia. But he wrote 
her praises with his helmet in the dust, and left her picture to be a 
true witness of his overthrow, as his running was of her beauty. 

After her was the goodly Artaxia, great queen of Armenia, a lady 
upon whom nature bestowed and well placed her most delightful 
colours, and, withal, had proportioned her without any fault, quickly 
to be discovered by the senses, yet altogether seemed not to make 


up that harmony that Cupid delights in, the reason whereof might 
seem a mannish countenance, which overthrew that lovely sweet- 
ness, the noblest power of womankind, far fitter to prevail by parley 
than by battle. 

Of a far contrary consideration was the representation of her that 
next followed, which was Erona queen of Lycia, who though of so 
brown a hair as no man sl^ould have injured it to have called it 
black, and that in the mixture of her cheeks the white did so much 
overcome the red, tho' what was, was very pure, that it came near 
to paleness, and that her face was a thought longer than the exact 
Symetrians perhaps would allow ; yet love played his part so well 
in every part that it caught hold of the judgment before it could 
judge, making it first love, and after acknowledge it fair ; for there 
was a certain delicacy, which in yielding conquered, and with a 
pitiful look made one find cause to crave help himself 

After her came two ladies, of noble, but not of royal birth : 
The former was named Baccha, who though very fair, and of a 
fatness rather to allure, than to mislike, yet her breasts over- 
familiarly laid open, with a made countenance about her mouth, 
between simpering and smiling, her head bowed somewhat down, 
seemed to languish with over-much idleness, and with an inviting 
look cast upward, dissuaded with too much persuading, while hope 
might seem to over-run desire. 

The other, whose name was written Leucippe, was of a fine 
daintiness of beauty, her face carrying in it a sober simplicity, like 
one that could do much good and meant no hurt, her eyes having 
in them such a cheerfulness as nature seemed to smile in them, 
though her mouth and cheeks obeyed to that pretty demureness 
which the more one marked the more one would judge the poor 
soul apt to believe, and therefore the more pity to deceive her. 

Next came the queen of Laconia, one that seemed born in the 
confines of beauty's kingdom : For all her lineaments were neither 
perfect possessioners thereof, nor absolute strangers thereto : But 
she was a queen, and therefore beautiful. 

But she that followed, conquered indeed with being conquered, 
and might well have made all the beholders wait upon her triumph 
while herself were led captive. It was the excellently fair queen 
Helen, whose jacinth-hair curled by nature, but intercurled by art 
like a fine brook through golden sands, had a rope of fair pearl, 
which now hiding, now hidden by the hair, did as it were play at 
fast and loose each with other, mutually giving and receiving rich- 
ness. In her face so much beauty and favour expressed as, if 
Helen had not been known, some would rather have judged it the 
painter's exercise to show what he could do than the counterfeiting 
of any living pattern ; for no fault the most fault-finding wit could 

8o ARCADIA [book i. 

have found, if It were not that to the rest of the body the face was 
somewhat too little, but that little was such a spark of beauty as 
was able to inflame a world of love; for everything was fall 
of a choice fineness, that if we wanted anything in majesty it 
supplied it with increase in pleasure ; and if at the first it struck 
not with admiration, it ravished with delight. And no indifferent 
soul there was, which if it could resist from subjecting itself to 
make it his princess, that would not long to have such a playfellow. 
As for her attire, it was costly and curious, though the look, fixed 
with more sadness than it seemed nature had bestowed to any that 
knew her fortune, betrayed that as she used those ornaments not 
for herself, but to prevail with another, so she feared that all would 
not serve. Of a far differing, though esteemed equal, beauty, was 
the fair Parthenia, who next waited on Artesia's triumph, tho' far 
better she might have sat on the throne. For in her everything 
was goodly and stately, yet so that it might seem that great-minded- 
ness was but the ensign-bearer to the humbleness. For her great 
grey eye, which might seem full of her own beauty ; a large and 
exceedingly fair forehead, with all the rest of her face and body 
cast in the mould of nobleness, was yet so attired as might show 
the mistress thought it either not to deserve, or not to need any 
exquisite decking, having no adorning but cleanliness ; and so far 
from all art, that it was full of carelessness, unless that carelessness 
itself, in spite of itself, grew artificial. But Basilius could not 
abstain from praising Parthenia as the perfect picture of a womanly 
virtue and wifely faithfulness, telling withal Zelmane how he had 
understood that when in the court of Laconia her pictures maintained 
by a certain Sycionian knight, was lost through want rather of 
valour than justice, her husband, the famous Argalus, would in a 
chafe have gone and redeemed it with a new trial. But she, more 
sporting than sorrowing for her undeserved champion, told her 
husband she desired to be beautiful in nobody's eye but his, and 
that she would rathei^ mar her face as evil as ever it was than that 
it should be a cause to make Argalus put on armour. Then would 
Basilius have told Zelmane that which he already knew, of the rare 
trial of that coupled aflfection : but the next picture made their 
mouths give place to their eyes. 

It was of a young maid which sat pulling out a thorn out of a 
lamb's foot, with her look so attentive upon it, as if that httle foot 
could have been the circle of her thoughts ; her apparel so poor, 
as it had nothing but the inside to adorn it ; a sheep-hook lying by 
her with a bottle upon it. But with all that poverty, beauty played 
the prince and commanded as many hearts as the greatest queen 
there did. Her beauty and her estate made her quickly to 
be known to be the fair shepherdess Urania, whom a rich 


knight called Lacemon, far in love with her, had unluckily 

The last of all in place, because last in the time of her being 

captive, was Zelmane, daughter to the King Plexirtus, who at the 

first sight seemed to have some resembUng of Philoclea, but with 

more marking, comparing it to the present Philoclea, who indeed 

had no paragon but her sister, they might see it was but such a 

likeness as an unperfect glass doth give, answerable enough in 

some features and colours, but erring in others. But Zelmane 

sighing, turning to Basilius, " Alas ! Sir," said she, " herfe be some 

pictures which might better become the tombs of their mistresses 

than the triumph of Artesia." " It is true sweetest lady," said 

Basilius, " some of them be dead, and some other captive ; but that 

hath happened so late, as it may be the knights that defended their 

beauty knew not so much : without we will say, as in some other 

hearts I know it would fall out, that death itself could not blot out 

the image which love hath engraven in them. But divers besides 

those," said Basilius, " hath Phalantus, won, but he leaves the rest, 

carrying only such who either for greatness of estate, or of beauty, 

may justly glorify the glory of Artesia's triumph." 

Thus talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any matter 
subject to speak of with his mistress, while Phalantus, in this 
pompous manner, brought Artesia with her gefitlewoman into one 
tent, by which he had another, where they both waited who would 
first strike upon the shield, while Basilius the judge appointed 
sticklers and trumpets, to whom the other should obey. But none 
that day appeared, nor the next, till already it had consumed half 
his allowance of light ; but then there came in a knight, protesting 
himself as contrary to him in mind, as he was in apparel. For 
Phalantus was all in white, having in his bases and caparison 
embroidered a waving water, at each side whereof he had nettings 
cast over, in which were divers fishes naturally made, and so 
prettily that as the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to strive and 
leap in the net. 

But the other knight, by name Nestor, by birth an Arcadian, 
and in affection vowed to the fair shepherdess, was all in black, 
with fire burning both upon his armour and horse. His impressa 
in his shield was a fire made of juniper, with this word, " More 
easy and more sweet." But this hot knight was cooled with a fall, 
which at the third course he received of Phalantus; leaving his 
picture to keep company with the other of the same stamp ; he 
going away remedilessly chafing at his rebuke. The next was 
Polycetes, greatly esteemed in Arcadia for deeds he had done in 
arms, and much spoken of for the honourable love he had long 
borne to Gynecia, which Basilius himself was content not only to 



suffer, but to be delighted with, he carried it in so honourable and 
open plainness, setting to his love no other mark than to do her 
faithful service. But neither her fair picture, nor his fair running, 
could warrant him from overthrow, and her from becoming as then 
the last of Artesia's victories, a thing Gynecia's virtues would little 
have reckoned at another time, nor then, if Zelmanes had not seen 
it. But her champion went away as much discomforted, as dis- 
comfited. Then Thelamon for Pelexena, and Eurilion for Elpine, 
and Leon for Zoana, all brave knights, all fair ladies, with their 
going down, lifted up the balance of his praise for activity, and hers 
for fairness. 

Upon whose loss, as the beholders were talking, there comes 
into the place where they ran, a shepherd stripling (for his height 
made him more than a boy, and his face would not allow him a 
man) brown of complexion, whether by nature or by the sun's 
familiarity, but very lovely withal, for the rest so perfect propor- 
tioned that nature showed she doth not like men who slubber up 
matters of mean account. And well might his proportion be 
judged, for he had nothing upon him but a pair of slops, and upon 
his body a goat skin which he cast over his shoulder, doing all 
things with so pretty a grace that it seemed ignorance could not 
make him do amiss, because he had a heart to do well ; holding in 
his right hand a long staff, and so coming with a look full of 
amiable fierceness, as in whom choler could not take away the 
sweetness, he came towards the king, and making a reverence 
(which in him was comely, because it was kindly). " My liege 
lord," said he, " I pray you hear a few words, for my heart will 
break if I say not my mind to you : I see here the picture of Urania, 
which I cannot tell how nor why these men when they fall down, 
they say is not so fair as yonder gay woman. But pray God I may 
never see my old mother aUve, if I think she be any more matched 
to Urania, than a goat is to a fine lamb ; or than the dog that 
keeps our flock at home, is like your white greyhound that pulled 
down the stag last day. 

" And therefore I pray you let me be dressed as they be, and my 
heart gives me I shall tumble him on the earth : for indeed he 
might as well say that a cowslip is as white as a lily : or else I care 
not, let him come with his great staff, and I with this in my hand, 
and you shall see what I can do to him. Basilius saw it was the 
fine shepherd Lalus, whom once he had afore him in pastoral sports, 
and had greatly delighted in his wit full of pretty simplicity, and 
therefore laughing at his eamestnes?, he bade him be content, since 
he saw the pictures of so great queens were fain to follow their 
champions fortune. But Lalus, even weeping ripe, went among 
the rest, longing to see somebody that would revenge Urania's 


wrong; and praying heartily for everybody that ran against 
Phalantus, then beginning to feel poverty that he could hot set 
himself to that trial. But by and by, even when the sun, like a 
noble hart, began to show his greatest countenance in his lowest 
estate, there came in a knight, called Phebilus, a gentleman of 
that country, for whom hateful fortune had borrowed the dart of 
love, to make him miserable by the fight of Philoclea. For he 
had even from her infancy loved her, and was stricken by her 
before she was able to know what quiver of arrows her eyes carried ; 
but he loved and despaired, and the more he despaired, the more 
he loved. He saw his own worthiness, and thereby made her 
excellency have more terrible aspect upon him : he was so secret 
therein, as not daring to be open, that to no creature he ever spoke 
of it, but his heart made such silent complaints within itself that, 
while all his senses were attentive thereto, cunning judges might 
perceive his mind, so that he was known to love, though he denied, 
or rather was the better known, because he denied it. His armour 
and his attire was for a sea colour ; his impressa, the fish called 
Sepia, which being in the net, casts a black ink about itself, that in 
the darkness thereof it may escape : his word was, " Not so." 
Philoclea's picture with almost an idolatrous magnificence was 
borne in by him. But straight jealousy was a harbinger for 
disdain in Zelmane's heart, when she saw any but herself should be 
avowed a champion for Philoclea, insomuch that she wished his 
shame, till she saw him shamed. For at the second course he was 
stricken quite from out of the saddle, so full of grief and rage withal 
that he would fain with the sword have revenged it, but that being 
contrary to the order set down, Basilius would not suffer : so that 
wishing himself in the bottom of the earth, he went his way, leaving 
Zelmane no less angry with his loss than she would have been with 
his victory. For if she though before a rival's praise would have 
angered her, her lady's disgrace did make her much more forget 
what she then thought, while that passion reigned so much the 
more as she saw a pretty blush in Philoclea's cheeks betray a 
modest discontentment. But the night commanded truce for those 
sports, and Phalantus, though entreated, would not leave Artesia, 
who in no case would come into the house, having, as it were, 
sucked of Ceoropia's breath a mortal mislike against Basilius, 

But the night, measured by the short ell of sleep, was soon past 
over, and the next morning had given the watchful stars leave to 
take their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius to play his 
judge's part, which he did, taking his wife and daughters with him ; 
Zelmane having locked her door, so as they could not trouble her 
for that time : for already there was a knight in the field, ready to 
prove Helen of Corinth had received great iiyuty, both by the 

84 ARCADIA [book i. 

erring judgment of the challenger, and the unlucky weakness of 
her former defender. The new knight was quickly known to be 
Clitophon, Kalander's son of Basilius's sister, by his armour which, 
all gilt, was so well handled that it showed like a glittering sand 
and gravel interlaced with silver rivers. His device he had put in 
the picture of Helen which he defended ; it was the Ermion with a 
speech that signified, " Rather dead than spotted." But in that 
armour since he had parted from Helen, who would no longer his 
company, finding him to enter into terms of affection, he had per- 
formed so honourable actions, still seeking for his two friends by 
the names of Palladius and Daiphantus, that though his face were 
covered, his being was discovered, which yet Basilius, who had 
brought him up in his court, would not seem to do, but glad to see 
the trial of him, of whom he had heard very well, he commanded 
the trumpets to sound, to which the two brave knights obeying, 
they performed their courses, breaking their six staves, with so 
good, both skill in the hitting and grace in the manner, that it bred 
some difficulty in the judgment. But Basilius in the end gave 
sentence against Clitophon, because Phalantus had broken more 
staves, upon the head, and that once Clitophon had received such 
a blow that he had lost the reins of his horse with his head 
well-nigh touching the crupper of the horse. But Clitophon 
was so angry with the judgment, wherein he thought he had 
received wrong, that he omitted his duty to his prince, and 
uncle, and suddenly went his way still in the quest of them, whom 
as then he had left seeking, and so yielded the field to the next 

Who, coming in about two hours after, was no less marked than 
all the rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking. 
For he had neither picture nor device, his armour of as old a 
fashion, besides the rusty poorness, that it might better seem a 
monument of his grandfather's courage : about his middle he had, 
instead of bases, a long cloak of silk, which as unhandsomely, as it 
needs must, became the wearer, so that all that looked on, measured 
his length on the earth already, since he had to meet one who had 
been victorious of so many gallants. But he went on towards the 
shield, and with a sober grace struck it, but as he let his sword 
fall upon it, another knight, all in black, came rustling in, who 
struck the shield almost as soon as he, and so strongly that he 
broke the shield in two: the ill-apparelled knight, for so the 
beholders called him, angry with that,, as he accounted, insolent 
injury to himself, hit him such a sound blow that they that looked 
on said it well became a rude arm. The other answered him 
again in the same case, so that lances were put to silence, the 
swords were so busy. 


■ But Phalantus, angry of this defacing shield, came upon the 
black knight, and with the pommel of his sword set fire to his eyes, 
which presently was revenged, not only by the black, but the ill- 
apparelled knight, who disdained another should enter into his 
quarrel, so as, who ever saw a matachin dance to imitate fighting, 
this was a fight that did imitate the matachin : for they being but 
three that fought, everyone had two adversaries, striking him, who 
struck the third, and revenging perhaps that of him which he had 
received of the other. But Basilius rising himself came to part 
them, the stickler's authority scarcely able to persuade choleric 
hearers ; and part them he did. 

But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, halting on foot, 
who complained to Basilius, demanding justice on the black knight, 
for having by force taken away the picture of Pamela from him, 
which in little form he wore in a tablet, and covered with silk had 
fastened it to his helmet, purposing, for want of a bigger, to 
paragon the little one with Artesia's length, not doubting but even 
in that little quantity, the excellency of that would shine through 
the weakness of the other, as the smallest star doth through the 
whole element of fire. And by the way he had met with this black 
knight, who had, as he said, robbed him of it. The injury seemed 
grievious, but when it came fully to be examined, it was found that 
the halting knight meeting the other, asking the cause of his going 
thitherward, and finding it was to defend Pamela's divine beauty 
against Artesia's, with a proud jollity commanded him to leave that 
quarrel only for him, who was only worthy to enter into it. But 
the black knight obeying no such commandments, they fell to such 
a bickering that he got a halting, and lost his picture. This under- 
stood by Basilius, he told him he was now fitter to look to his own 
body than anothei-'s picture, and so, uncomforted therein, sent him 
away to learn of jEsculapius that he was not fit for Venus. But 
then the question arising, who should be the former against 
Phalantus, of the black or the ill-apparelled knight, who now had 
gotten the reputation of some sturdy lout, he had so well defended 
himself ; of the one side, was alleged the having a picture which 
the other wanted ; of the other side, the first striking the shield, 
but the conclusion was, that the ill-apparelled knight should have 
the precedence, if he delivered the figure of his mistress to 
Phalantus, who asking him for it, "Certainly," said he, "her 
liveliest picture, if you could see it, is in my heart, and the best 
comparison I could make of her is of the sun and all the other 
heavenly beauties. But because perhaps all eyes cannot taste the 
divinity of her beauty, and would rather be dazzled than taught by 
the light, if it be not clouded by some meaner thing, know ye then, 
that I defend that same lady, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost 

86 ARCADIA [book i. 

yesternight, and, instead of another, if you overcome me, you shall 
have me your slave to carry that image in your mistress' triumph." 
Phalantus easily agreed to the bargain, which readily he made his 

But when it came to the trial, the ill-apparelled knight, choosing 
out the greatest staves in all the store, at the first course gave his 
head such a remembrance that he lost almost his remembrance, he 
himself receiving the encounter of Phalantus, without any extra- 
ordinary motion ; and at the second, gave him such a counterbuff, 
that because Phalantus was so perfect a horseman, as not to be 
driven from the saddle, the saddle with broken girths was driven 
from the horse ; Phalantus remaining angry and amazed, because 
now being come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that 
disgrace befel him, which he had never before known. 

But the victory being by the judges given, and the trumpets 
witnessed to the ill-apparelled knight ; Phalantus disgrace was 
ingrieved in lieu of comfort of Artesia, who telling him she never 
looked for other, bade him seek some other mistress. He excusing 
himself, and turning over the fault to fortune, " Then let that be 
your ill fortune too," said she, " that you have lost me." 

" Nay, truly madam," said Phalantus, " it shall not be so, for I 
think the loss of such a mistress will prove a great gain," and so 
concluded, to the sport of Basilius, to see young folks love, that 
came in masked with so great pomp, go out with so little constancy. 
But Phalantus first professing great service to Basilius for his 
courteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet 
conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whither she desired to go, 
vowing in himself that neither heart nor mouth love should ever 
any more entangle him, and with that resolution he left the com- 
pany. Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black knight 
went away repining at his luck that had kept him firom winning 
the honour, as he knew he should have done to the picture of 
Pamela) the ill-apparelled knight (who was only desired to stay, 
because Basilius meant to show him to Zelmane) puU'd oflf his 
helmet, and then was known himself to be Zelmane, who that 
morning, as she told, while the others were busy, had stolen out d 
the prince's stable, which was a mile off from the lodge, had gottei 
a horse, they knowing it was Basilius's pleasure she should be 
obeyed, and borrowing that homely armour for want qf a better, 
had come upon the spur to redeem Philoclea's picture, which, she 
said, she could not bear, being one of that little wilderness company, 
should be in captivity, if the cunning she had learned in her country 
of the noble Amazons, could withstand it ; and under that pretext 
fain she would have given a secret passport to her affection. But 
this act painted at one instant redness in Philoclea's face, and pale- 


ness in Gynecia's, but brought forth no other countenances but of 
admiration, no speeches but of commendations : all those few, 
besides love, thinking they honoured themselves in honouring so 
accomplished a person as Zelmane, whom daily they fought with 
some or other sports to delight ; for which purpose Basilius had, 
in a house not far off, servants, who though they came not uncalled, 
yet at call were ready. 

And so many days were spent, and many ways used, while 
Zelmane was like one that stood in a tree waiting a good occasion 
to shoot, and Gynecia a blancher, which kept the dearest deei 
from her. But the day being come, on which according to an 
appointed course, the shepherds were to assemble and make their 
pastoral sports before Basilius, Zelmane, fearing lest many eyes, 
and coming divers ways, might hap to espy Musidorus, went out 
to warn him thereof. 

But before she could come to the arbour, she saw walking from 
her-ward, a man in shepherdish apparel, who being in the sight 
of the lodge, it might seem he was allowed there. A long cloak 
he had on, but that cast under his right arm, wherein he held a sheep 
hook so finely wrought, that it gave a bravery to poverty, and his 
raiments though they were mean, yet received they handsomeness 
by the grace of the wearer, though he himself went but a kind of 
languishing pace, with his eyes sometimes cast up to heaven as 
though his fancies strove to mount higher ; sometimes thrown 
down to the ground, as if the earth could not bear the burden of 
his sorrows ; at length, with a lamentable tune, he sung those 
few verses. 

Come shepherd's weeds, become your master's mind ; 

Yield outward show, what inward change he tries : 
Nor be abash'd, since such a guest you find. 

Whose strongest hope in your weak comfort lies. 

Come shepherd's weeds, attend my woeful cries ; 
Disuse yourselves from sweet Menalca's voice : 
For other be those tunes which sorrow ties, 
From those clear notes which freely may rejoice. 
Then pour out plaint, and in one word say this : 
Helpless is plaint, who spoils himself of bliss. 

And having ended, he struck himself on the breast, saying, 
" O miserable wretch, whither do thy destinies guide thee ? " The 
voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to overtake him, which 
having done, she plainly perceived that it was her dear friend 
Musidorus ; whereat marvelling not a little, she demanded of him 
whether the goddess of those woods had such a power to trans- 

88 ARCADIA [book i. 

form every body, or whether, as in all enterprises else he had done, 
he meant thus to match her in this new alteration. "Alas," said 
Musidorus, " what shall I say, who am loth to say, and yet fain 
would have said ? I find indeed, that all is but lip-wisdom, which 
wants experience. I now, woe is me, do try what love can do. 
O Zelmane, who will resist it must either have no wit, or put out 
his eyes : can any man resist his creation ? certainly by love we 
are made, and to love we are made. Beasts only cannot discern 
beauty, and let them be in the roll of beasts that do not honour it." 
The perfect friendship Zelmane bare him, and the great pity she, by 
good trial, had of such cases, could not keep her from smiling at him, 
remembering how vehemently he had cried out against the folly 
of lovers ; and therefore a little to punish him, " Why how now 
dear cousin," said she, "you that were last day so high in the 
pulpit against lovers, are you now become so mean an auditor? 
remember that love is a passion, and that a worthy man's reason 
must ever have the masterhood." "I recant, I recant," cried 
Musidorus, and withal falling down prostrate, "O thou celestial 
or infernal spirit of love, or what other heavenly or heUish title 
thou lift to have, for effects of both I find in myself, have com- 
passion of me and let thy glory be as great in pardoning them 
that be submitted to thee as in conquering those that were 
rebellious."' "No, no," said Zelmane, "I see you well enough; 
you make but an interlude of my mishaps, and do but counterfeit 
thus to make me see the deformity of my passions ; but take heed, 
that this jest do not one day turn to earnest." " Now I beseech 
thee," said Musidorus, taking her fast by the hand, " even for the 
truth of our friendship, of which, if I be not altogether an unhappy 
man, thou has some remembrance, and by those secret flames 
which I know have likewise nearly touched thee, make no jest of 
that which hath so earnestly pierced me through, nor let that be 
light unto thee, which is to me so burdenous, that I am not able 
to bear it." Musidorus, both in words and behaviour, did so lively 
deliver out his inward grief that Zelmane found indeed he was 
throughly wounded : but there rose a new jealousy in her mind, 
lest it might be with Philoclea, by whom, as Zelmane thought, 
in right, all hearts and eyes should be inherited. And therefore 
desirous to be cleared of that doubt, Musidorus shortly, as in 
haste and full of passionate perplexedness, thus recounted his case 
unto her. 

" The day," said he, " I parted from you, I being in mind to 
return to a town from whence I came hither, my horse being before 
tired, would scarce bear me a mile hence, where being benighted, 
the sight of a candle, I saw a good way off, guided me to a young 
shepherd's house, by name Menalcas, who seeing me to be a 


straying stranger, with the right honest hospitality which seems 
to be harboured in the Arcadian breasts, and, though not with 
curious costUness, yet cleanly sufficiency entertained me ; and 
having by talk with him found the manner of the country some- 
thing more in particular than I had by Kalander's report, I agreed 
to sojourn with him in secret, which he faithfully promised to 
observe. And so hither to your arbour divers times repaired, 
and here by your means had the fight, O that it had never been so, 
nay, O that it might ever be so, of the goddess, who in a definite 
compass can set forth infinite beauty." All this while Zelmane 
was racked with jealousy. But he went on, " For," said he, " I 
lying close, and in truth thinking of you, and saying thus to myself, 
" O sweet Pyrocles, how art thou bewitched ? where is thy virtue ? 
where is the use of thy reason ? how much am I inferior to thee 
in that state of mind ? and yet know I that all the heavens cannot 
bring me such a thraldom." Scarcely, think I, had I spoken this 
word, when the ladies came forth ; at which sight, I think the 
very words returned back again to strike my soul; at least, an 
unmeasurable sting I felt in myself that I had spoken such words. 
" At which sight," said Zelmane, not able to bear him any longer. 
" O," said Musidorus, " I know your suspicion ; No, no, banish 
all such fear, it was, it is, and must be Pamela." " Then all is safe," 
said Zelmane, "proceed dear Musidorus." "I will not," said he, 
" impute it to my late solitary life, which yet is prone to affections, 
nor to the much thinking of you (though that called the considera- 
tion of love into my mind, which before I ever neglected) not to 
the exaltation of Venus, nor revenge of Cupid, but even to her, 
who is the planet, nay, the goddess, against which the only shield 
must be my sepulchre. When I first saw her I was presently 
stricken, and I (like a foolish child, that when anything hits him, 
will strike himself again upon it) would needs look again, as though 
I would persuade mine eyes, that they were deceived. But alas, 
well have I found, that love to a yielding heart is a king ; but to 
a resisting, is a tyrant. The more with arguments I shaked the 
stake, which he had planted in the ground of my heart, the deeper 
still it sank into it. But what mean I to speak of the causes of 
my love, which is as impossible to describe, as to measure the 
back-side of heaven ? let this word suffice, I love. 

" And that you may know I do so, it was I that came in black 
armour to defend her picture, where I was both prevented and 
beaten by you. And so, I that waited here to do you service, have 
now myself most need of succour." "But whereupon got you 
yourself this apparel ? " said Zelmane. " I had forgotten to 
tell you," said Musidorus, "though that were one principal 
matter of my speech ; so much am I now master of my own 

90 ARCADIA [book i, 

mind. But thus it happened: being returned to Menalca's 
house, full of tormenting desire, after a while fainting under the 
weight, my courage stirred up my wit to seek for some relief before 
I yielded to perish. At last this came into my head, that every 
evening, that I had to no purpose last used my horse and armour. 
I told Menalcas, that I was a Thessalian gentleman, who by mis- 
chance having killed a great favourite of the prince of that country, 
was pursued so cruelly, that in no place but either by favour or 
corruption, they would obtain my destruction, and that therefore 
I was determined, till the fury of my persecutors might be assuaged, 
to disguise myself among the shepherds of Arcadia, and, if it were 
possible, to be one of them that were allowed the prince's 
presence, because if the worst should fall that I were discovered, 
yet having gotten the acquaintance of the prince, it might happen 
to move his heart to protect me. Menalcas, being of an honest 
disposition, pitied my case, which my face, thro' my inward 
torment, made credible ; and so, I giving him largely for it, let me 
have this raiment, instructing me in all particularities, touching 
himself, or myself, which I desired to know ; yet not trusting so 
much to his constancy as that I would lay ray life, and life 
of my life upon it, I hired him to go into Thessalia to a friend 
of mine, and to deliver him a letter from me ; conjuring him to 
bring me as speedy an answer as he could, because it imported me 
greatly to know whether certain of my friends did yet possess any 
favour, whose intercessions I might use for my restitution. He 
willingly took my letter, which being well sealed, indeed contained 
other matter. For I wrote to my trusty servant Calodoulus, whom 
you know as soon as he had delivered the letter, he should keep 
him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to have conference 
with any body, till he knew my further pleasure, in all other 
respects that he should use him as my brother. And is Menalcas 
gone, and I here a poor shepherd; more proud of this estate 
than of any kingdom, so manifest it is, that the highest point out- 
ward things can bring one unto, is the contentment of the mind, 
with which no estate ; without which, all estates be miserable. 
Now have I chosen this day, because, as Menalcas told me, the 
other shepherds are called to make their sports, and hope that you 
will with your credit find means to get me allowed among them." 
"You need not doubt," answered Zelmane, "but that I will be 
your good mistress : marry, the best way of dealing must be by 
Dametas, who since his blunt brain hath perceived some favour 
the prince doth bear unto me (as without doubt the most servile 
flattery is lodged most easily in the grossest capacity, for their 
ordinary conceit draweth a yielding to their greater, and then have 
they not wit to discern the right degrees of duty) is much more 


serviceable unto me, than I can find any cause to wish him. And 
therefore despair not to win him, for every present occasion 
will catch his senses, and his senses are masters of his silly mind ; 
only reverence him, and reward him, and with that bridle and 
saddle you shall well ride him." "O heaven and earth," said 
Musidorus, "to what a pass are our minds brought that from 
the right line of virtue are wried to these crooked shifts ? but O 
love, it is thou that doest it ; thou changest name upon name ; 
thou disguisest our bodies, and disfigurest our minds. But indeed 
thou hast reason ; for though the ways be foul, the journey's end 
is most fair and honourable." 

" No more sweet Musidorus," said Zelmane, " of these philos- 
ophies ; for here comes the very person of Dametas." And so he 
did indeed, with a sword by his side, a forest-bill on his neck, and 
a chopplng-knlfe under his girdle : in which well provided sort, he 
had ever gone since the fear Zelmane had put him in. But he no 
sooner saw her, but with head and arms he laid his reverence 
afore her, enough to have made any man forswear all courtesy. 
And then in Basilius's name he did invite her to walk down to the 
place where that day they were to have the pastorals. 

But when he espied Musidorus to be none of the shepherds 
allowed in that place he would fain have persuaded himself to utter 
some anger, but that he durst not ; yet muttering and champing, 
as though his cud troubled him, he gave occasion to Musidorus to 
come near him, and feign his tale of his own life : that he was a 
younger brother of the shepherd Menalcas, by name Dorus, sent 
by his father in his tender age to Athens, there to learn some cun- 
ning more than ordinary, that he might be the better liked of the 
prince ; and that after his father's death, his brother Menalcas 
lately gone thither to fetch him home, was also deceased, where, 
upon his death, he had charged him to seek the service of 
Dametas, and to be wholly and ever guided by him, as one in 
whose judgment and integrity the prince had singular confidence. 
For token whereof, he gave to Dametas a good sum of gold in 
ready coin : which Menalcas had bequeathed unto him, upon con- 
dition he should receive this poor Dorus into his service, that his 
mind and manners might grow the better by his daily example. 
Dametas, that of all manners of style could best conceive of golden 
eloquence, being withal tickled by Musidorus's praises, had his 
brain so turned, that he became slave to that which he that sued to 
be his servant offered to give him, yet, for countenance sake, he 
seemed very squeamish, in respect of the charge he had of the 
princess Pamela. But such was the secret operation of the gold, 
helped with the persuasion of the Amazon, Zelmane (who said it 
was pity so handsome a young man should be anywhere else than 


with so good a master) that in the end he agreed (if that day he 
behaved himself so to the liking of Basilius, as he might be con- 
tented) that then he would receive him into his service. 

And thus went they to the lodge, where they found Gynecia and 
her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselves there 
a while until the shepherds coming : whither also taking Zelmane 
with them, as they went, Dametas told them of Dorus, and desired 
he might be accepted there that day instead of his brother 
Menalcas. As for Basilius, he stayed behind to bring the 
shepherds, with whom he meant to confer, to breed the better 
Zelmane's liking, which he only regarded, while the other beautiful 
band came to the fair field appointed for the shepherdish pastimes. 
It was indeed a place of delight ; for through the midst of it there 
ran a sweet brook which did both hold the eye open with her 
azure streams, and yet seek to close the eye with the purling noise 
it made upon the pebble stones it ran over : the field itself being 
set in some places with roses, and in all the rest constantly 
preserving a flourishing green : the roses, added such a ruddy 
show unto it, as though the field were bashful at his own beauty ; 
about it, as if it had been to enclose a theatre, grew such sort of 
trees as either excellency of fruit, stateliness of growth, continual 
greenness, or poetical fancies, have made at any time famous. In 
most part of which there had been framed by art such pleasant 
arbours, that, one answering another, they became a galleiy aloft 
from tree to tree almost round about, which below gave a perfect 
shadow ; a pleasant refuge then from the choleric look of Phoebus. 

In this place while Gynecia walked hard by them, carrying many 
unquiet contentions about her, the ladies sat them down, enquiring 
divers questions of the shepherd Dorus ; who keeping his eye still 
upon Pamela, answered with such a trembling voice, and abashed 
countenance, and oftentimes so far from the matter, that it was 
some sport to the young ladies, thinking it want of education which 
made him so discountenanced with unwonted presence. But 
Zelmane that saw in him the glass of her own misery, taking the 
hand of Philodea, and with burning kisses setting it close to her 
lips (as if it should stand there like a hand in the margin of a book, 
to note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speak those 
words : " O love, since thou art so changeable in men's estates, 
how art thou so constant in their torments?" when suddenly there 
came out of a wood a monstrous lion, with a she-bear not far from 
him, of a little less fierceness, which, as they guessed, having been 
hunted in forests far off, were by chance come thither, where 
before such beast had never been seen. Then care, not fear, or 
fear, not for themselves, altered something the countenances of the 
two lovers ; but so, as any man might perceive, was rather an 


assembling of powers, than dismayedness of courage. Philoclea 
no sooner espied the lion, but, that obeying the commandment of 
fear, she leaped up, and ran to the lodge ward, as fast as her 
delicate legs could carry her, while Dorus drew Pamela behind a 
tree, where she stood quaking like a partridge on which the hawk 
is even ready to seize. But the lion, seeing Philoclea run away, 
bent his race to her-ward, and was ready to seize himself on the 
prey when Zelmane (to whom danger then was a cause of dread- 
lessness, all the composition of her elements being nothing but 
fiery) with swiftness of desire crossed him, and with force of 
affection struck him such a blow upon his chine, that she opened 
all his body : wherewith the valiant beast turning her with open 
jaws, she gave him such a thrust through his breast, that all the 
lion could do, was with his paw to tear off the mantle and sleeve of 
Zelmane with a little scratch, rather than a wound, his death-blow 
having taken away the effect of his force : but therewithal he fell 
down, and gave Zelmane leisure to take off his head, to carry it for 
a present to her lady Philoclea, who all this while, not knowing 
what was done behind her, kept on her course like Arethusa when 
she ran from Alpheus ; her light apparel being carried up with the 
wind, that much of those beauties she would at another time have 
willingly hidden, was presented to the sight of the twice wounded 
Zelmane. Which made Zelmane not follow her over-hastily, lest 
she should too soon deprive herself of that pleasure, but carrying 
the lion's head in her hand, did not fully overtake her till they 
came to the presence of Basilius. Neither were they long there, 
but that Gynecia came thither also, who had been in such a trance 
of musing that Zelmane was fighting with the lion, before she knew 
of any lion's coming : but then affection resisting, and the soon 
ending of the fight preventing all extremity of fear she marked 
Zelmane's fighting : and when the lion's head was off, as Zelmane 
ran after Philoclea, so she could not find in her heart but run after 
Zelmane : so that it was a new fight fortune had prepared to those 
woods, to see those great personages thus run one after the other, 
each carried forward with an inward violence ; Philoclea with such 
fear that she thought she was still in the lion's mouth ; Zelmane 
with an eager and impatient delight ; Gynecia with wings of love, 
flying she neither knew nor cared to know whither. But now 
being all come before Basilius, amazed with this sight, and fear 
having such possession in the fair Philoclea that her blood durst 
not yet come to her face to take away the name of paleness from 
her most pure whiteness, Zelmane kneeled down and presented the 
lion's head unto her: "Only lady," said she, "here see you the 
punishment of that unnatural beast, which contrary to his own 
kind would have wronged prince's blood, guided with such traiterous 

94 ARCADIA [book t. 

eyes, as durst rebel against your beauty." " Happy am I, and my 
beauty both (answered the sweet Philoclea then blushing, for fear 
had bequeathed his room to his kinsman bashfulness) that you, 
excellent Amazon, were there to teach him good manners." " And 
even thanks to that beauty," answered Zelmane, " which can give 
an edge to the bluntest swords." 

There Philoclea told her father how it had happened ; but as 
she had turned her eyes in her tale to Zelmane she perceived some 
blood upon Zelmane's shoulder, so that starting with the lovely 
grace and pity she showed it to her father and mother, who, as the 
nurse sometimes with over-much kissing may forget to give the 
babe suck, so had they with too much delighting, in beholding and 
praising Zelmane, left off to mark whether she needed succour. 
But then they ran both unto her, like a father and mother to an 
only child, and, though Zelmane assured them it was nothing, 
would needs see it, Gynecia having skill in chirurgery, an art in 
those days much esteemed because it served to virtuous courage, 
which even ladies would, ever with the contempt of cowards, seem 
to cherish. But looking upon it (which gave more inward bleed- 
ing wounds to Zelmane, for she might sometimes feel Philoclea's 
touch while she helped her mother) she found it was indeed of no 
importance ; yet applied she a precious balm unto it of power to 
heal a greater grief. 

But even then, and not before, they remembered Pamela, and 
therefore Zelmane, thinking of her friend Dorus, was running back 
to be satisfied, when they might all see Pamela coming between 
Dorus and Dametas, having in her hand the paw of a bear, which 
the shepherd Dorus had newly presented unto her, desiring her to 
accept it, as of such a beast, which though she deserved death for 
her presumption, yet was her wit to be esteemed, since she could 
make so sweet a choice. Dametas for his part came piping and 
dancing, the merriest man in a parish : but when he came so near 
as he might be heard of Basilius, he would needs break through 
his ears with this joyful song of their good success. 

Now thanked he the great god Pan, 

Which thus preserves my loved life : 
Thanked be I that keep a man, 

Who ended hath this bloody strife : 
For if my Man must praises have, 

What then must I, that keep the knave? 

For as the Moon the eye doth please, 
With gentle beams not hurting sight : 

Yet hath sir Sun the greatest praise, 
Because from him doth come her light ; 

So if my man must praises have, 
What then must I, that keep the knave ? 


Being all now come together, and all desirous to know each 

other's adventures, Pamela's noble heart would needs gratefully 

make known the valiant means of her safety, which, directing her 

speech to her mother, she did in this manner : " As soon," said 

she, "as ye were all run away, and that I hoped to be in safety, 

there came out of the same woods a horrible foul bear, which 

(fearing belike to deal while the lion was present as soon as he 

was gone) came furiously towards the place where I was, and this 

young shepherd left alone by me, I truly (not guilty of any wisdom, 

which since they lay to my charge, because they say it is the best 

refuge against that beast, but even pure fear bringing forth that 

effect of wisdom) fell down flat on my face, needing not counterfeit 

being dead, for indeed I was little better. But this young shepherd 

with a wonderful courage, having no other weapon but that knife 

you see, standing before the place where I lay, so behaved himself 

that the first sight I had, when I thought myself already near 

Charon's ferry, was the shepherd showing me his bloody knife in 

token of victory." " I pray you (said Zelmane speaking to Dorus, 

whose valour she was careful to have manifested) in what sort, so 

ill weaponed, could you achieve this enterprise?" "Noble lady," 

said Dorus, " the manner of those beasts fighting with any man, 

is to stand up upon their hinder feet, and so this did, and being 

ready to give me a shrewd embracement, I think the god Pan, 

ever careful of the chief blessing of Arcadia, guided my hand so 

just to the heart of the beast that neither she could once touch me 

nor (which is the only matter in this worthy remembrance) breed 

any danger to the princess. For my part, I am rather, with all 

subjected humbleness, to thank her excellencies, since the duty 

thereunto gave me heart to save myself than to receive thanks for 

a deed which was her only aspiring." And this Dorus spoke, 

keeping affection as much as he could back from coming into his 

eyes and gestures. But Zelmane, that had the same character in 

her heart, could easily decipher it, and therefore to keep him the 

longer in speech, desired to understand the conclusion of the 

matter, and how the honest Dametas was escaped. " Nay," said 

Pamela, " none shall take that office from myself, being so much 

bound to him as I am for my education." And with that word, 

scorn borrowing the countenance of mirth, somewhat she smiled, 

and thus spoke on : " When," said she, " Dorus made me assuredly 

perceive that all cause of fear was passed, the truth is, I was 

ashamed to find myself alone with this shepherd, and therefore 

looking about me, if I could see anybody, at length we both 

perceived the gentle Dametas, lying, with his head and breast as 

far as he could thrust hitnself into a bush, drawing up his legs as 

close unto him as he could : for, like a man of a very kind nature, 


soon to take pity on himself, he was fully resolved not to see his 
own death. And when this shepherd pushed him, bidding him to 
be of good cheer, it was a great while e'er we could persuade him 
that Dorus was not the bear, so that he was fain to pull him out 
by the heels, and show him the beast as dead as he could wish it : 
which, you may believe me, was a very joyful sight unto him. But 
then he forgot all courtesy, for he fell upon the beast, giving it 
many a manful wound, swearing by much, it was not well such 
beasts should be sufifered in a commonwealth. And then my 
governor, as full of joy, as before of fear, came dancing and singing 
before, as even now you saw him." " Well, well," said BasiUus, " I 
have not chosen Dametas for his fighting, nor for his discoursing 
but for his plainness and honesty, and therein I know he will not 
deceive me," But then he told Pamela (not so much because she 
should know it, as because he would tell it) the wonderful act 
Zelmane had performed, which Gynecia likewise spoke of, both in 
such extremity of praising, as was easy to be seen, the construction 
of their speech might best be made by the grammar rules of 
affection. Basilius told with what a gallant grace she ran with the 
lion's head in her hand, like another Pallas with the spoils of 
Gorgon. Gynecia swore she saw the very face of the young 
Hercules killing the Nemean lion ; and all with a grateful assent 
confirmed the same praises ; only poor Dorus (though of equal 
desert, yet not proceeding of equal estate) should have been less 
forgotten, had not Zelmane again with great admiration begun to 
speak of him ; asking whether it were the fashion or no in Arcadia 
that shepherds should perform such valorous enterprises. 

This Basilius, having the quick sense of a lover, took, as though 
his mistress had given him a secret reprehension, that he had not 
showed more gratefulness to Dorus ; and therefore as niriibly as 
he could, enquired of his estate, adding promise of great rewards, 
among the rest, offering to him, if he would exercise his courage 
in soldiery, he would commit some charge unto him under his 
heutenant Philanax. But Dorus, whose ambition climbed by 
another stair, having first answered touching his estate that he was 
brother to the shepherd Menalcas, who among other was wont to 
resort to the prince's presence, and excused his going to soldiery 
by the unaptness he found in himself that way, he told Basilius 
that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serve 
Dametas, and therefore, for due obedience thereunto, he would 
think his service greatly rewarded if he might obtain by' that 
means to live in the sight of the prince and yet practice his own 
chosen vocation. Basilius, liking well his goodly shape and 
handsome manner, charged Dametas to receive him like a son into 
his house, saying, that his valour, and Dametas's truth would be 


good bulwarks against such mischiefs, as, he sticked not to say, 
were threatened to his daughter Pamela. 

Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that had been 
said, because he had no worse to fall into than his own, accepted 
Dorus ; and withal telling Basilius that some of the shepherds 
were come, demanded in what place he would see their sports, 
who first was curious to know whether it were not more requisite 
for Zelmane's hurt to rest than sit up at those pastimes ; and she, 
that felt no wound but one, earnestly desired to have the pastorals. 
Basilius commanded it should be at the gate of the lodge, where 
the throne of the prince being, according to the ancient manner, 
he made Zelmane sit between him and his wife therein, who 
thought herself between drowning and burning, and the two young 
ladies of either side the throne, and so prepared their eyes and 
ears to be delighted by the shepherds. 

But, before all of them were assembled to begin their sports, 
there came a fellow who being out of breath, or seeming so to be 
for haste, with humble hastiness told Basilius, that his mistress, 
the lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mischance of her 
beast ranging in that dangerous sort, being happened by the folly 
of the keeper, who thinking himself able to rule them, had carried 
them abroad, and so was deceived : whom yet, if Basilius would 
punish for it, she was ready to deliver. Basilius made no other 
answer, but that his mistress, if she had any more such beasts, 
should cause them to be killed : and then he told his wife and 
Zelmane of it, because they should not fear those woods, as though 
they harboured such beasts where the like had never been seen. 
But Gynecia took a further conceit of it, mistrusting greatly 
Cecropia, because she had heard much of the devilish wickedness 
of her heart, and that particularly she did her best to bring up her 
son Amphialus, being brother's son to Basilius, to aspire to the 
crown as next heir male after Basilius, and therefore saw no 
reason but that she might conjecture, it proceeded rather of some 
mischievous practice, than of misfortune. Yet did she only utter 
her doubt to her daughters, thinking, since the worst was past, 
she would attend a further occasion, lest overmuch haste might 
seem to proceed of the ordinary mislike between sisters-in-law 
only they marvelled that Basilius looked no farther into it, who, 
good man, thought so much of his late conceived commonwealth] 
that all other matters were but digressions unto him. But the 
shepherds were ready, and with well handling themselves, called 
their senses to attend their pastimes. 

Basilius, because Zelmane so would have it, used the artificial day 
of torches, to lighten the sports their invention could minister : 
and because many of the shepherds were but newly come, he did 


98 ARCADIA [book i. 

in a gentle manner chastise their negligence, with making them, 
for that night the torch bearers ; and the others he willed with 
all freedom of speech and behaviour to keep their accustomed 
method, which while they prepared to do, Dametas, who much 
disdained, since his late authority, all his old companions, brought 
his servant Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of them, 
and himself stood like a director over them, with nodding, gaping, 
winking, or stamping, showing how he did like or mishke those 
things he did not understand. The first sports the shepherds 
showed were full of such leaps and gambols as being according to 
the pipe which they bore in their mouths, even as they danced, 
made a right picture of their chief god Pan, and his companions the 
Satyrs. Then would they cast away their pipes, and holding hand 
in hand dance as it were in a brawl, by the only cadence of their 
voices, which they would use in singing some short couplets, 
whereto the one half beginning, the other half should answer as 
the one half, saying : 

We love, and have our loves rewarded. 
The other would answer. 

We love, and are no whit regarded. 
The first again. 

We find most sweet affection's snare. 
With like tune it should be as in a choir sent back again, 

That sweet, but sour, despairful care. 
A third time likewise thus : 

Who can despair, whom hope doth bear? 
The answer, 

And who can hope that feels despair ? 

Then joining all their voices, and dancing a faster measure, they 
would conclude with some such words : 

As without breath no pipe doth move, 
No music kindly without love. 

Having thus varied both their song and dances into divers sorts 
of inventions, their last sport was, one of them to provoke another 
to a more large expressing of his passions : which Thyrsis 
(accounted one of the best singers amongst them) having marked 
in Dorus's dancing, no less good grace and handsome behaviour 
than extreme tokens of a troubled mind, began first with his pipe, 
and then with his voice, thus to challenge Dorus, and was by him 
answered in the under-written sort. 




Thyr. Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorrows signify, 

And if for want of use thy mind ashamed is, 
That very shame with love's high title dignify. 

No style is held for base where love well named is ; 
Each ear sucks up the words a true-love scattereth, 
And plain speech oft, than quaint phrase better framed is. 
Dor. Nightingales seldom sing, the pye still chattereth, 

The wood cries most, before it thoroughly kindled be, 
Deadly wounds inward bleed, each slight sore mattereth. 

Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be : 
Shallow brooks murmur most, deep, silent slide away. 
Nor true-love, his love with others mingled be. 
Thyr. If thou wilt not be seen, thy face go hide away, 

Be none of us, or else maintain our fashion : 
Who frowns at others feasts, doth better bide away. 

But if thou hast a love, in that love's passion, 
I challenge thee by show of her perfection, 
Which of us two deserveth most compassion. 
Dor. Thy challenge great, but greater my protection : 

Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me) 
Thy health too mean a match for my infection. 

No, though the heaven's for high attempts have blamed me, 
Yet high is my attempt. O muse historify 
Her praise, whose praise to learn your skill hath framed me. 
Thyr. Muse hold your peace, but thou my god Pan glorify 

My Kala's gifts, who with all good gifts filled is. 
Thy pipe, O Pan, shall help, though I sing sorrily. 

A heap of sweets she is, where nothing spilled is ; 
Who though she be no Bee, yet full of honey is : 
A Lilly-field, with plough of Rose which tilled is : 

Mild as a lamb, more dainty than a coney is : 
Her eyes my eye-sight is, her conversation 

More glad to me than to a miser money is. 
What coy account she makes of estimation ? 

How nice to touch? how all her speeches poised be? 

A nymph thus turned, but mended in translation. 
Dor. Such Kala is : but ah my fancies raised be 

In one, whose name to name were high presumption, 
Since virtue's all, to make her title pleased be. 


happy gods, which by inward assumption 
Enjoy her soul, in bodies fair possession, 

And keep it join'd, fearing- your seats consumption. 

How oft with rain of tears skies make confession, 
Their dwellers wrapt with sight of her perfection, 
From heav'nly throne to her heav'n use digression ? 
Of best things then what world shall yield confection 
To liken her? deck yours with your comparison : 
She is herself of best things the collection. 
Thyr. How oft my doleful sire cry'd to me, tarry son, 

When first he spied my love? how oft he said to me. 
Thou art no soldier fit for Cupid's garrison? 

My son keep this, that my long toil hath laid to me : 
Love well thine own, methinks wool's whiteness passeth all : 

1 never found long love such wealth hath paid to me. 
This wind he spent : but when my Kala glasseth all 
My sight in her fair limbs, I then assure myself, 

Not rotten sheep, but high crowns she surpasseth all. 

Can I be poor, that her gold hair procure myself? 
Want I white wool, whose eyes her white skin garnished ? 
'Till I get her, shall I to keep innure myself? 
Dor. How oft, when reason saw, love of her harnessed 

With armour of my heart, he cried, O vanity ! 
To set a pearl in steel so meanly varnished ? 

Look to thyself, reach not beyond humanity. 
Her mind, beams, state, far from the weak wings banished ; 
And love with lovers hurt is inhumanity. 

Thus reason said : but she came, reason vanished ; 
Her eyes so mastering me, that such objection 

Seem'd but to spoil the food of thoughts long famished. 
Her peerless height my mind to high erection 

Draws up ; and if hope-failing end life's pleasure, 

Of fairer death how can I make election ? 
Thyr. Once my well waiting eyes espy'd my treasure, 

With sleeves turn'd up, loose hair, and breasts enlarged, 
Her father's corn, moving her fair limbs, measure. 

O cried I, if so mean work be discharged : 
Measure my case how by thy beauties filling, 
With seed of woes my heart brim-full is charg'd. 

Thy father bids thee save, and chides for spilling ; 
Save then my soul, spill not my thoughts well heap'd. 

No lovely praise was ever got by killing : 
Those bold words she did bear, this fruit I reaped. 

That she whose look alone might make me blessed, 

Did smile on me, and then away she leaped. 
Dor. Once, O sweet once, I saw with dread oppressed 

Her whom I dread, so that with prostrate lying 
Her length, the earth in love's chief clothing dressed, 


I saw that riches fall, and fell a crying ; 
Let not dead earth enjoy so dear a cover, 
But deck therewith my soul for your sake dying : 

Lay all your fear upon your fearful lover ; 
Shine eyes on me that both our lives be guarded ; 

So I your sight, you shall yourselves recover. 
I cry'dj and was with open eyes rewarded : 

But straight they fled summon'd by cruel honour, 

Honour, the cause desert is not regarded. 
Thyr. This maid, thus made for joys, O Pan ! bemoan her, 

That without love she spends her years of love : 
So fair a field would well become an owner. 

And if enchantment can a hard heart move. 
Teach me what circle may acquaint her sprite. 
Affection's charms in my behalf to prove. 

The circle is my, round about her, sight. 
The power I will invoke dwells in her eyes ; 
My charm should be, she haunt me day and night. 
Dor. Far other case, O muse, my sorrow tries. 

Bent to such one in whom myself must say. 
Nothing can mend one point that in her lies. 

What circle then in so rare force bears sway ? 
Whose sprite all sprites can foil, raise, damn, or save : 
No charm holds her, but well possess she may, 

Possess she doth, and makes my soul her slave, 
My eyes the bands, my thoughts the fatal knot. 
No thral like them that inward bondage have. 
Thyr. Kala, at length conclude my ling'ring lot : 

Disdain me not, although I be not fair. 
Who is an heir of many hundred sheep. 
Doth beauties keep which never sun can burn. 
Nor storms do turn : fairness serves oft to wealth. 
Yet all my health I place in your good will : 
Which if you will, O dOj bestow on me 
Such as you see ; such still you shall me find. 
Constant and kind, my sheep your food shall breed, 
Their wool your weed, I will you music yield 
In flow'ry field ; and as the day begins 
With twenty gins we will the small birds take. 
And pastimes make, as nature things hath made. 
But when in shade we meet of myrtle boughs. 
Then love allows our pleasures to enrich, 
The thought of which doth pass all worldly pelf. 

Dor. Lady yourself whom neither name I dare, 
And titles are but spots to such a worth. 
Here plaints come forth from dungeon of my mind. 
The noblest kind rejects not others' woes. 
I have no shows of wealth : my wealth is you, 


My beauties hue your beams, my health your deeds ; 

My mind for weeds your virtues livery wears. 

My food is tears, ray tunes lamenting yield. 

Despair my field, the flowers spirits wars : 

My day new cares, my gins my daily sight, 

In which do light small birds of thoughts o'erthrown : 

My pastimes none : time passeth on my fall : 

Nature made all, but me of dolors made, 

I find no shade, but where my sun doth burn ; 

No place to turn ; without, within it fries : 

Nor help by life or death, who living dies. 

Thyr. But if my Kala thus my suit denies, 

Which so much reason bears : 
Let crows pick out mine eyes, which too much saw. 

If she still hate love's law, 
My earthly mould doth melt in wat'ry tears. 

Dor. My earthly mould doth melt in wat'ry tears, 

And they again resolve 
To air of sighs, sighs to the heart fire turn, 

Which doth to ashes burn. 
Thus doth my life within itself dissolve. 

Thyr. Thus doth my life within itself dissolve 

That I grow like the beast. 
Which bears the bit a weaker force doth guide, 

Yet patient must abide. 
Such weight it hath, which once is full possess' d. 

Dor. Such weight it hath, which once is full possess' d, 

That I become a vision, 
Which hath in others held his only being, 

And lives in fancy seeing, 
O wretched state of man in self-division ! 

Thyr. O wretched state of man in self-division ! 

O well thou say'st ! a feeling declaration ! 
Thy tongue hath made, of Cupid's deep incision. 

But now hoarse voice, doth fail this occupation, 
And others long to tell their loves condition : 
Of singing thou hast got the reputation. 

Dor. Of singing thou hast got the reputation, 

Good Thyrsis mine^ I yield to thy ability ; 
My heart doth seek another estimation. 

But ah my muse, I would thou had'st facility 
To work my Goddess so by thy invention, 

On me to cast those eyes where shine nobility : 
Seen and unknown ; heard, but without attention. 

Dorus did so well in answering Thyrsis that everyone desired 
to hear him sing something alone. Seeing therefore a lute lying 
under the Princess Pamela's feet, glad to have such an errand to 


approach her, he came, but came with a dismayed grace, all his 
blood stirred betwixt fear and desire, and playing upon it with such 
sweetness, as everybody wondered to see such skill in a shepherd, 
he sung unto it with a sorrowing voice, these elegiac verses : 

Dor. Fortune, nature, love, long have contended about me, 
Which should most miseries cast on a worm that I am, 

Fortune thus gan say, misery and misfortune is all one. 
And of misfortune, fortune hath only the gift 

With strong foes on land, on sea with contrary tempests. 
Still do I cross this wretch, what so he taketh in hand. 

Tush, tush, said nature, this is all but a trifle, a man's self 
Gives haps or mishaps, even as he ordereth his heart. 

But so his humour I frame, in a mould of choler adusted. 
That the delights of life shall be to him dolorous. 

Love smiled, and thus said : want join'd to desire is unhappy : 
But if he nought do desire, what can Heraclitus ail? 

None but I work by desire : by desire have I kindled in his soul 
Infernal agonies into a beauty divine : 

Wherethou poor nature left'st all thy due glory, to fortune 
Her virtue's sovereign, fortune a vassal of hers. 

Nature abash'd went back : fortune blush'd : yet she replied 
thus : 
And even in that love shall I reserve him a spite. 

Thus, thus, alas ! woeful by nature, unhappy by fortune, 
But most wretched I am, now love awakes my desire. 

Dorus when he had sung this, having had all the while a free 
beholding of the fair Pamela (who could well have spared such 
honour ; and defended the assault he gave unto her face with 
bringing a fair stain of shamefacedness unto it) let fall his arms 
and remained so fastened in his thoughts as if Pamela had grafted 
him there to grow in continual imagination. But Zelmane espying 
it, and fearing he should too much forget himself, she came to 
him, and took out of his hand the lute, and laying fast hold of 
Philoclea's face with her eyes, she sung these sapphics, speaking 
as it were to her own hope : 

If mine eyes can speak to do hearty errand. 
Or mine eyes language she do hap to judge of. 
So that eyes message be of her received, 

Hope we do live yet. 
But if eyes fail then, when I most do need them. 
Or if eyes language be not unto her known. 
So that eyes message do return rejected, 

Hope we do both die. 
Yet dying, and dead, do we sing her honour ; 
So becomes our tombs monuments of our praise ; 

104 ARCADIA [book i. 

So becomes our loss the triumph of her gain ; 

Hers be the glory. 
If the spheres senseless do yet hold a music, 
If the swan's sweet voice be not heard, but as death. 
If the mute timber when it hath the life lost 

Yieldeth a lute's tune. 
Are then human lives privileg'd so meanly, 
As that hateful death can abridge them of power 
With the vow of truth to record to all worlds 

That we be her spoils ? 
Thus not endingj ends the due praise of her praise : 
Fleshly vail consumes ; but a soul hath his life. 
Which is held in love ; love it is, that hath join'd 

Life to this our soul. 
But if eyes can speak to hearty errand. 
Or mine eyes language she doth hap to judge of, 
So that eyes message be of her received 

Hope we do live yet. 
Great was the pleasure of Basilius, and greater would have been 
Gynecia's but that she fouud too well it was intended to her 
daughter. As for Philoclea, she was sweetly ravished withal. 
When Dorus, desiring in a secret manner to speak of their cases, 
as perchance the parties intended might take some light of it, 
making low reverence to Zelmane, began this provoking song in 
Hexameter verse unto her. Whereunto she soon finding whether 
his words were directed, in like tune and verse, answered as 
foUoweth : 


Dor. Lady reserved by the heavens to do pastor's company 
Joining your sweet voice, to the rural muse of a desert, 
Here you fully do find the strange operation of love. 
How to the woods love runs as well as rides to the palace, 
Neither he bears reverence to a prince, nor pity to a beggar. 
But, like a point in midst of a circle, is still of a nearness. 
All to a lesson he draws ; neither hills nor caves can avoid him. 

Zel. Worthy shepherd by my song to myself all favour is 
That to the sacred muse my annoys somewhat be revealed, 
Sacred muse, who in one contains what nine do in all them. 
But O happy be you, which safe from fiery reflection 
Of Phoebus violence in shade of sweet Cyparissus, 
Or pleasant myrtle, may teach the unfortunate Echo 
In these woods to resound the renowned name of goddess. 
Happy be you that may to the saint, your only Idea, 
(Although simply attir'd) your manly affection utter. 


Happy be those mishaps which justly proportion holding-, 
Give right sound to the ears, and enter aright to the judgment : 
But wretched be the souls, which vail'd in a contrary subject, 
How much more we do love, so the less our loves be believed. 
What skill salveth a sore of wrong infirmity judged ? 
What can justice avail to a man that tells not his own case ? 
You though fears do abash, in you still possible hopes be : 
Nature against we do seem to rebel, seem fools in a vain suit. 
But so unheard, condemn'd, kept thence we do seek to abide in. 
Self-lost in wand'ririg, banished that place we do come from. 
What mean is there alas^ we can hope our loss to recover ? 
What place is there left, we may hope our woes to recomfort ? 
Unto the heav'ns? our wings be too short: earth thinks us a 

Air ? we do still with Sighs increase : to the fire ? we do want 

And yet his outward heat our tears would quench, but an inward 
Fire no liquor can cool : Neptune's realm would not avail us. 
Happy shepherd, with thanks to the Gods, still think to be 

That to thy advancement their wisdoms have thee abased. 
Dor. Unto the gods with a thankful heart all thanks I do 
That to my advancement their wisdoms have me abased. 
But yet, alas ! O but yet alas 1 our haps be but hard haps, 
Which must frame contempt to the fittest purchase of honour. 
Well may a pastor plain, but alas his plaints be not esteem'd : 
Silly shepherd's poor pipe, when his harsh sound testifies anguish, 
Into the fair looking on, pastime, not passion, enters. 
And to the woods or brooks, who do make such dreary recital ? 
What be the pangs they bear, and whence those pangs be 

Pleas'd to receive that name by rebounding answer of Echo, 
May hope thereby to ease their inward horrible anguish, 
When trees dance to the pipe, and swift streams stay by the 

Or when an Echo begins unmov'd to sing them a love-song ; 
Say then, what vantage do we get by the trade of a pastor ? 
(Since no estates be so base, but love vouchsafeth his arrow, 
Since no refuge doth serve from wounds we do carry about us, 
Since outward pleasures be but halted helps to decayed Souls) 
Save that daily we may discern what fire we do burn in. 
Far more happy be you, whose greatness gets a free access ;, 
Whose fair bodily gifts are fram'd most lovely to each eye. 
Virtue you have, of virtue you have left proof to the whole world. 
And virtue is grateful, with beauty and richness adorn' d. 
Neither doubt you a whit ; time will your passion utter. 
Hardly remains fire hid where skill is bent to the hiding, 

io6 ARCADIA [book i. 

But in a ^nind that would his flames should not be repressed, 
Nature worketh enough with a small help for the revealing: : 
Give therefore to the muse great praise, in whose very likeness 
You do approach to the fruit your only desires be to gather. 
Zel. First shall fertile grounds not yield increase of a good 
First the rivers shall cease to repay their floods to the ocean : 
First may a trusty greyhound transform himself to a tiger. 
First shall virtue be vice, and beauty be counted a blemish. 
E'er that I leave with song of praise her praise to solemnize, 
Her praise, whence to the world all praise hath his only 

beginning : 
But yet well I do flnd each man most wise in his own case. 
None can speak of a wound with skill, if he have not a wound 

Great to thee my state seems, thy state is bless'd by my judgment : 
And yet neither of us great or blest deemeth his own self. 
For yet (weigh this alas !) great is not great to the greater. 
What judge you doth a hillock show, by the lofty olympus ? 
Such my minute greatness, doth seem compar'd to the greatest. 
When cedars to the ground fall down by the weight of an emmot. 
Or when a rich ruby's price be the worth of a walnut, 
Or to the sun for wonders seem small sparks of a candle : 
Then by my high cedar rich ruby, and only shining sun. 
Virtue, riches, beauties of mine shall great be reputed. 
Oh, no, no, worthy shepherd, worth can never enter a title, 
Where proofs justly do teach, thus match'd, such worth to be 

nought worth : 
Let not a puppet abuse thy sprite, kings' crowns do not help them 
From the cruel headache, nor shoes of gold do the gout heal : 
And precious couches full oft are shak'd with a fever. 
If then a bodily ill in a bodily gloze be not hidden. 
Shall such morning dews be an ease to the heat of a love's fire ? 

Dor. O glittering miseries of man, if this be the fortune 
Of those fortunes lulls ? so small rests, rest in a kingdom ? 
What marvel tho' a prince transform himself to a pastor ? 
Come from marble bowers many times the gay harbour of 

Unto a silly caban, thought weak, yet stronger against woes. 
Now by the words I begin, most famous lady, to gather 
Comfort into my soul, I do find what a blessing 
Is chanced to my life, that from such muddy abundance 
Of carking agonies, to states which still be adherent, 
Destiny keeps me aloof, for if all this state to thy virtue 
Join'd by thy beauty adorn'd be no means those griefs to abolish : 
If neither by that help, thou canst climb up thy fancy. 
Nor yet fancy so dress'd do receive more plausible hearing : 
Then do I think indeed, that better it is to be private 


In sorrow's torments, than, tied to the pomps of a palace. 
Nurse inward maladies, which have not scope to be breath'd out : 
But perforce digest all bitter joys of horror 
In silence, from a man's own self with company robbed. 
Better yet do I live, that though by my thoughts I be plunged 
Into my life's bondage, yet may I disburden a passion 
(Oppress'd with ruinous conceits) by the help of an out-cry ; 
Not limited to a whispering note, the lament of a courtier. 
But sometimes tp the woods, sometimes to the heav'n do decipher 
With bold clamour unheard, unmark'd, what I seek, what I 

suffer ! 
And when I meet those trees, in the earth's fair livery clothed, 
Ease I do feel, such ease as falls to one wholly diseased, 
For that I find in them part of my state represented. 
Laurel shows what I seek, by the myrrh is shown how I seek it, 
Olive paints me the peace that I must aspire to by conquest : 
Myrtle makes my request ; my request is crown'd with a willow 
Cypress promiseth help, but a help where comes no recomfort : 
Sweet juniper saith this, though I burn, yet I burn in a sweet fire. 
Yew doth make me think what kind of bow the boy holdeth, 
Which shoots strongly without any noise, and deadly without 

Fir-trees great and green, fix'd on a high hill but a barren, 
Like to my noble thoughts, still new, well plac'd to me fruitless. 
Fig that yields most pleasant fruits, his shadow is hurtful : 
Thus be her gifts most sweet, thus more danger to be near her. 
Now in a palm when I mark, how he doth rise under a burden, 
And may I not, say then, get up though grief be so weighty ? 
Pine is a mast to a ship, to my ship shall hope for a mast serve. 
Pine is high, hope is as high, sharp leav'd, sharp, yet be my 

hopes buds. 
Elm embrac'd by a vine, embracing fancy revlveth : 
Poplar changeth his hue from a rising sun to a setting : 
Thus to my sun do I yield, such looks her beams do afford me. 
Old aged oak cut down, of new work serves to the building : 
So my desires by my fear cut down, be the frames of her honour. 
As he makes spears which shields do resist, her force no repulse 

Palms do rejoice to be join'd by the match of a male to a female, 
And shall sensitive things be so senseless as to resist sense ? 
Thus be my thoughts dispers'd, thus thinking nurseth a thinking. 
Thus both trees and each thing else, be the books of a fancy. 
But to the cedar, queen of woods, when I left my betear'd eyes, 
Then do I shape to myself that form which reigns so within me, 
And think there she doth dwell and hear what plaints I do utter-. 
When that noble top doth nod, I believe she salutes me, 
When by the wind it maketh a noise, I do think she doth answer. 
Then kneeling to the ground, oft thus do I speak to that image ; 

io8 ARCADIA [book i. 

Only jewel, O only jewel, which only deservest, 
That men's hearts be thy seat, and endless fame be thy servant, 
O descend for a while, from this great height to behold me. 
But nought else to behold, else is nought worth the beholding, 
Save what a work by thyself is wrought : and since I am alter'd 
Thus by thy work, disdain not that which is by thyself done. 
In mean caves oft treasure abides, to an hostry a king comes. 
And so behind foul clouds full oft fair stars do lie hidden, 
Zel. Hardy shepherd, such as thy merits, such may be her 
Justly to grant thee reward, such envy I hear to thy fortune. 
But to myself what wish can I make for a salve to my sorrows, 
Whom both nature seems to debar from means to be helped, 
And if a mean were found, fortune th' whole course of it hinders ? 
Thus plagu'd how can I frame to my sore any hope of amendment? 
Whence may I show to my mind any light of possible escape ? 
Bound, and bound by so noble bands, as loth to be unbound. 
Jailer I am to myself, prison and pris'ner to mine own self. 
Yet by my hopes thus plac'd, here fix'd lives all my comfort. 
That that dear diamond, where wisdom holdeth a sure seat, 
Whose force had such force so to transform, nay to reform me, 
Will at length perceive those flames by her beams to be kindled. 
And will pity the wound festered so strangely within me. 
O be it so, grant such an event, O gods, that event give, 
And for a sure sacrifice I do daily oblation offer 
Of mine own heart, where thoughts be the temple, sight is an 

But cease worthy shepherd, now cease we to weary the hearers 
With mournful melodies ; for enough our griefs be revealed. 
If the parties meant our meanings rightly be marked, 
And sorrows do require some respite unto the senses. 

What exclaiming praises Basilius gave to this Eclogue any man 
may guess that knows love is better tban a pair of spectacles to 
make everything seem greater which is seen through it : and then 
is never tongue-tied where fit commendation, whereof womankind 
is so liquorish, is offered unto it. But before any other came in to 
supply the place, Zelmane having heard some of the shepherds by 
chance name Strephon and Claius, supposing thereby they had 
been present, was desirous both to hear them for the fame of their 
friendly love, and to know them for their kindness towards her 
best loved friend. Much grieved was Basilius, that any desire of 
his mistress should be unsatisfied, and therefore to represent them 
unto her, as well as in their absence it might be, he commanded 
one Lamon, who had at large set down their country pastimes and 
first love to Urania, to sing the whole discourse which he did in 
this manner. 


A shepherd's tale no height of style desires, 

To raise in words what in effect is low : 
A plaining song plain singing voice requires, 

For warbling notes from cheering spirit flow. 
I then whose burd'ned breast but thus aspires 
Of shepherds two the silly cause to show. 

Need not the stately muses help invoke. 
For creeping rhymes, which often sighings choke. 
But you, O you, that think not tears too dear, 

To spend for harms, although they touch you not : 
And deign to deem your neighbours mischief near. 

Although they be of meaner parents got : 
You I invite with easy ear's to hear 

The poor-clad truth of love's wrong- order'd lot. 
Who may be glad, be glad you be not such : 
Who share in woe, weigh others have as much. 
There was (O seldom blessed word of was !) 
A pair of friends, or rather one call'd two, 
Train'd in the life which no short-bitten grass 
In shine or storm must set the clouted shoe : 
He, that the other in some years did pass. 
And in those gifts that years distribute do. 
Was Claius call'd (ah Claius, woeful weight !) 
The latter born, yet too soon Strephon height. 
Epirus high was honest Claius's nest. 

To Strephon Coles's land first breathing lent : 
But east and west were join'd by friendship's hest. 

As Strephon's ear and heart to Claius bent. 
So Claius's soul did in his Strephon rest. 
Still both their flocks flocking together went. 
As if they would of owner's humour be. 
As eke their pipes did well, as friends agree. 
Claius for skill of herbs and shepherds art. 

Among the wisest was accounted wise, 
Yet not so wise, as of unstained heart : 

Strephon was young, yet marked with humble eyes 
How elder rul'd their flocks and cur'd their smart. 
So that the grave did not his words despise. 
Both free of mind, both did clear dealing love, 
And both had skill in verse their voice to move. 
Their cheerful minds, 'till poison'd was their cheer. 

The honest sports of earthly lodging prove ; 
Now for a clod-like hare in form they peer. 

Now bolt and cudgel squirrels leap do move : 
Now the ambitious lark with mirror clear 
They catch, while he (fool !) to himself makes love ; 
And now at keels they try a harmless chance. 
And now their cur they teach to fetch and dance. 

1 10 ARCADIA [BOOK 1. 

When merry May first early calls the mom, 
With merry maids a maying they do go : 
Then do they pull from sharp and niggard thorn 

The plenteous sweets (can sweets so sharply grow?) 
Then some green gowns are by the lasses worn 
In chastest plays, 'till home they walk arow, 
Whilst dance about the may-pole is begun, 
When, if need were, they could at Quintain* run : 
While thus they ran a low, but levell'd race. 

While thus they liv'd, this was indeed a life. 
With nature pleas'd, content with present case, 

Free of proud fears, brave begg'ry, smiling strife. 
Of climb-fall court, the envy hatching place : 
While those restless desires in great men rise, 
To visit so low of folks did much disdain, 
This while, though poor, they in themselves did reign. 
One day (O day, that shin'd to make them dark !) 
While they did ward sun-beams with shady bay, 
And Claius taking for his youngling cark, 

(Lest greedy eyes to them might challenge lay) 
Busy with oker did their shoulders mark, 
(His mark a pillar was devoid of stay. 

As bragging that free of all passions none, 
Well might he others bear, but lean to none :) 
Strephon with leafy twigs of laurel tree, 

A garland made on temples for to wear. 
For he then chosen was, the dignity 

Of village lord, that Whitsuntide to bear ; 
And full, poor fool, of boyish bravery. 

With triumphs shows would show he nought did fear. 
But fore-accounting oft makes builders miss : 
They found, they felt, they had no lease of bliss. 
For e'er that either had his purpose done, 
Behold, beholding well it doth deserve. 
They saw a maid who thitherward did run, 

To catch her Sparrow which from her did swerve, 
As she a black-silk cap on him begun 
To set for foil of his milk-white to serve. 
She chirping ran, he peeping flew away, 
'Till hard by them both he and she did stay. 
Well for to see, they kept themselves unseen. 

And saw this fairest maid of fairer mind : 
By fortune mean ; in nature born a queen. 

How well apaid she was her bird to find : 
How tenderly her tender hands between 

* A rural sport, chiefly used at marriages, wherein, running a tilt on horse-back 
with poles, at a large stake fixed in the ground, against which, he that breaks most 
poles, gains the prize. 


In ivory cage she did the micher bind : 
How rosy moist' ned lips about his beak 
Moving, she seem'd at once to kiss, and speak. 
Chast'ned but thus, and thus his lesson taught. 

The happy wretch she put into her breast. 
Which to their eyes the bowels of Venus brought, 

For they seem'd made even of sky metal best, 
And that the byass of her blood was wrought. 
Betwixt them two the peeper took his nest, 

Where snugging weU he well appear'd content, 
So to have done amiss, so to be shent. 
This done, but done with captive-killing grace. 

Each motion seeming shot from beauty's bow. 
With length laid down, she deck'd the lovely place. 

Proud grew the grass that under her did grow. 
The trees spread out their arms to shade her face. 
But she on elbow lean'd, with sighs did show 
No grass, no trees, nor yet her sparrow might 
The long perplexed mind breed long delight. 
She troubled was (alas that it might be !) 

With tedious brawlings of her parents dear, 
Who would have her in will and word agree 

To wed Antaxius their neighbour near, 
A herdman rich, of much account was he. 
In whom no evil did reign, nor good appear. 
In some such one she lik'd not his desire. 
Fain would be free, but dreadeth parents' ire. 
Kindly (sweet soul !) she did unkindness take 

That bagged baggage of a miser's mud. 
Should price of her, as in a market, make ; 
But gold can gild a rotten piece of wood ; 
To yield she found her noble heart to ache, 
To strive she fear'd how it with virtue stood. 
Thus doubtings clouds o'ercasting heav'nly brain, 
At length in rows of kiss-cheeks tears they rain. 
Cupid the wag, that lately conquer'd had 

Wise counsellors, stout captains, puissant kings, 
And tied them fast to lead his triumph had. 

Glutted with them, now plays with meanest things : 
So oft in feasts with costly changes clad 

To crammed maws a sprat new stomach brings. 
So lords with sport of stag and heron full. 
Sometimes we see small birds from nests do pulU 
So now for prey those shepherds two he took. 

Whose metal stiff he knew he could not bend 
With hear-say pictures, or a window-look ; 

With one good dance, or letter finely penn'd 
That were in court a well proportion'd hook, 


Where piercing' wits do quickly apprehend, 
Their senses rude plain objects only move, 
And so must see great cause before they love. 
Therefore love arm'd in her now takes the field, 

Making her beams his bravery and might : 
Her hands which pierc'd the soul's sev'n double shield, 

Were now his darts leaving his wonted fight. 
Brave crest to him her scorn gold hair did yield. 
His complete harness was her purest white. 
But fearing lest all white might seem too good. 
In cheeks and lips the tyrant threatens blood. 
Besides this force, within her eyes he kept 

A fire, to burn the prisoners Tie gains, 
Whose boiling heart increased as she wept : 

For ev'n in forge, cold water fire maintains. 
Thus proud and fierce unto the hearts he stepp'd 
Of them poor souls : and cutting reason's reins. 
Made them his own before they had it wist. 
But if they had, could sheep-hooks thus resist ? 
Claius straight felt, and groaned at the blow, 

And call'd, now wounded, purpose to his aid : 
Strephon, fond boy, delighted did not know 

That it was love that shin'd in shining maid ; 
But lickrous, poison'd, fain to her would go. 
If him new learned manners had not stay'd. 
For then Urania homeward did arise, 
Leaving in pain their well-fed hungry eyes. 
She went, they stay'd, or rightly for to say. 

She stay'd with them, they went in thought with her : 
Claius indeed would fain have puU'd away 

This mote from out his eye, this inward bur, 
And now proud rebel 'gan for to gainsay 
The lesson which but late he learn'd too far : 
Meaning with absence to refresh the thought 
To which her presence such a fever brought. 
Strephon did leap with joy and jollity, 

Thinking it just more therein to delight. 
Than in good dog, fair field, or shading tree. 

So have I seen trim-books in velvet dight. 
With golden leaves, and painted babery 
Of silly boys, please unacquainted sight : 
But when the rod began to play his part. 
Fain would, but could not, fly from golden smart. 
He quickly learn'd Urania was her name. 

And straight, for failing, grav'd it in his heart : 
He knew her haunt, and haunted in the same, 

And taught his sheep her sheep in food to thwart, 
Which soon as it did hateful question frame. 


He might on knees confess his faulty part, 
And yield himself unto her punishment, 
While nought but game, the self hurt wonton meant. 
Nay, even unto her home he oft would go, 

Where bold and hurtless many play he tries. 
Her parents liking well it should be so. 

For simple goodness shined in his eyes. 
There did he make her laugh in spite of woe. 
So as good thoughts of him in all arise. 
While into none doubt of his love did sink, 
For not himself to be in love did think. 
But glad desire, his late embosom'd guest 

Yet but a babe, with milk of sight he nurst 
Desire the more he suck'd, more sought the breast. 

Like dropsy-folk still drink to be a thirst, 
'Till one fair ev'n an hour e're sun did rest, 
Who then in lion's cave did enter first. 

By neighbours pray'd she went abroad thereby, 
At barley-break* her sweet swift foot to try. 
Never the earth on his round shoulders bare 
A maid train'd up from high or low degree, 
That in her doings better could compare 

Mirth with respect, from words with courtesy, 
A careless comliness with comely care. 

Self-guard with mildness, sport with majesty : 
Which made her yield to deck this shepherd's band, 
And still, believe me, Strephon was at hand. 
A field they go, where many lookers be, 

And thou seek-sorrow Claius them among : 
Indeed thou said'st it was thy friend to see 

Strephon, whose absence seem'd unto thee long, 
While most with her he less did keep with thee. 
No, no, it was in spite of wisdom's song 
Which absence wish'd : love play'd a victor's part : 
The heav'n-love load-stone drew thy iron heart. 
Then couples there, be straight allotted there. 

They of both ends the middle two do fly. 
They two that in mid-place, hell called were. 

Must strive with waiting foot, and watching eye 
To catch of them, and them to hell to bear, 
That they, as well as they, hell may supply : 

Like some which seek to salve their Mooted name 
With others blot, 'till all do taste of shame. 
There may you see, soon as the middle two 
Do coupled towards either couple make. 
They false and fearful do their hands undo, 

* Runningr-matches made by the country girls, with each other, as hereafter 



Brother his brother, friend doth friend forsake, 
Heeding himself, cares not how fellow do, 
But of a stranger mutual help doth take : 
As perjur'd cowards in adversity 
With sight of fear, from friends, to friend, do fly. 
These sports shepherds devis'd such faults to show. 
Geron, though old, yet gamesome, kept one end 
With Cosma, for whose love Pas past in woe. 
Fair Nous with Pas the lot to hell did send : 
Pas thought it hell, while he was Cosma fro. 
At other end Uran did Strephon lend 

Her happy making hand, of whom one look 
From Nous and Cosma all their beauty took. 
The play began : Pas durst not Cosma chase, 

But did intend next bout with her to meet. 
So he with Nous to Geron turn'd their race, 

With whom to join, fast ran Urania sweet ; 

But light legg'd Pas had got the middle space. 

Geron strove hard, but aged were his feet. 

And therefore finding force now faint to be. 

He thought gray hairs afforded subtlety. 

And so when Pas's hand reached him to take, 

The fox on knees and elbows tumbled down ; 
Pas could not stay, but over him did rake, 

And crown'd the earth with his first touching crown : 
His heels grown proud did seem at heav'n to shake. 
But Nous that slipp'd from Pas, did catch the clown. 
So laughing all, yet Pas to ease some dell 
Geron with Uran were condemn'd to hell. 
Cosma this while to Strephon safely came. 
And all to second Barley-break are bent ; 
The two in hell did toward Cosma frame ; 

Who should to Pas, but they would her prevent. 
Pas mad with fall, and madder with the shame. 
Most mad with beams which we thought Cosma sent. 
With such mad haste he did to Cosma go, 
That to her breast he gave a noisome blow. 
She quick, and proud, and who did Pas despise, 

Up with her fist, and took him on the face. 
Another time, quoth she, become more wise. 

Thus Pas did kiss her hand with little grace. 
And each way luckless, yet in humble guise 
Did hold her fast for fear of more disgrace. 
While Strephon might with pretty Nous have met, 
But all this while another course be set. 
For as Urania after Cosma ran ; 

He ravished with sight how gracefully 
She mov'd her limbs, and drew the aged man. 


Left Nous to coast the loved beauty nigh ; 
Nous cry'd and chaf'd, but he no other can. 
'Till Uran seeing Pas to Cosma fly, 
And Strephon single, turn'd after him : 
Strephon so chas'd did seem in milk to swim. 
He ran, but ran with eye o're shoulder cast, 

More marking her, than how himself did go. 
Like Numid lions by the hunters chas'd. 

Though they do fly, yet backwardly do glow 
With proud aspect, disdaining greatest haste : 
What rage in them, that love in him did show. 
But God gives them instinct the man to shun, 
And he by law of Barley-break must run. 
But as his heat with running did augment, 

Much more his sight increased his hot desire : 
So is in her the best of nature spent. 

The air her sweet race mov'd doth blow the fire. 
Her feet be pursuivants from Cupid sent, 
With whose fine steps all loves and joys conspire. 
The hidden beauties, seem'd in wait to lie, 
To down proud hearts that would not willing die. 
That, fast he fled from her he foUow'd sore, 

Still shunning Nous to lengthen pleasing race, 
'Till that he spied old Geron could no more, 

Than did he stack his love-instructed pace. 
So that Uran, whose arm old Geron bore, 

Laid hold on him with most lay-holding grace. 
So caught, him seem'd he caught of joys the bell. 
And thought it heav'n so to be drawn to hell : 
To hell he goes, and Nous with him must dwell, 

Nous sware it was no right ; for his default 
Who would be caught, that she should go to hell : 

But so she must. And now the third assault 
Of barley-break among the six befel. 
Pas Colma match'd, yet angry with his fault. 
The other end Geron with guard : 
I think you think Strephon bent thitherward. 
Nous counsell'd Strephon Geron to pursue. 

For he was old, and easy would be caught : 
But he drew her as love his fancy drew. 

And so to take the gem Urania sought, 
While Geron old came safe to Cosma true, 
Though him to meet at all she stirred nought. 
For Pas, whether it were for fear or love, 
Mov'd not himself, nor suffer'd her to move. 
So they three did together idly stay, 

While dear Uran, whose course was Pas to meet, 
(He staying thus) was fain abroad to stray 


With larger round, to shun the following feet, 
Strephon, whose eyes on her back parts did play, 
With love drawn on so fast with pace unmeet, 
Drew dainty Nous, that she not able so 
To run, brake forth his hands, and let him go. 
He single thus hop'd soon with her to be, 

Who nothing earthly, but of fire and air, 
Though with soft legs did run as fast as he. 

He thrice reach'd, thrice deceiv'd, when her to bear 
He hopes, with dainty turns she doth him flee. 
So on the Downs we see, near Wilton fair, 
A hasten'd hare from greedy grayhound go, 
And past all hope his chaps to frustrate so. 
But this strange race more strange conceits did yield ; 

Who victor seem'd, was to his ruin brought : 
Who seem'd o'erthrown was mistress of the field: 
« She fled, and took ; he followed and was caught. 
She have I heard to pierce pursuing shield, 

By parents train'd the Tartars wild are taught. 
With shafts shot out from their back-turned bow. 
But ah ! her darts did far more deeply go. 
As Venus's bird, the white, swift, lovely Dove, 
(O happy Doves that are compar'd to her !) 
Doth on her wings her utmost swiftness prove. 

Finding the gripe of Falcon fierce not furr: 
So did Uran : the nar, the swifter move, 
(Yet beauty still as fast as she did stir) 

'Till with long race dear she was breathless brought. 
And then the Phaenix feared to be caught. 
Among the rest that there did take delight 
To see the sports of double shining day : 
And did the tribute of their wond'ring sight 

To nature's heir, the fair Urania pay, 
I told you Claius was the hapless wight. 
Who earnest found what they accounted play. 
He did not there do homage of his eyes. 
But on his eyes his heart did sacrifice. 
With gazing looks, short sighs, unsettled feet. 

He stood, but turn'd, as Gyrosol, to sun : 
His fancies still did her in half-way meet. 
His soul did fly as she was seen to run. 
In sum, proud Boreas never ruled fleet 
(Who Neptune's web on danger's distaff spun) 

With greater power, than she did make them wend 
Each way, as she that ages praise, did bend. 
'Till 'spying well, she well nigh weary was, 

And surely taught by his love-open eye. 
His eye, that ev'n did mark her trodden grass. 


That she would fain the catch of Strephon fly, 
Giving his reason passport for to pass 
Whither it would, so it would let him die ; 

He that before shunn'd her, to shun such harms : 
Now runs, and takes her in his clipping arms. 
For with pretence from Strephon her to guard, 

He met her full, but full of warefulness. 
Within bow'd-bosom well for her prepar'd. 

When Strephon cursing his own backwardness. 
Came to her back, and so with double ward 
Imprison'd her who both them did possess 
As heart-bound slaves : and happy then embrace 
Virtue's proof, fortune's victor, beauty's place. 
Her race did not her beauty's beams augment. 

For, they were ever in the best degree. 
But yet a setting forth it someway lent. 
As rubies lustre when they rubbed be. 
The dainty dew on face and body went 
As on sweet flowers, when morning's drops we see. 
Her breath then short, seem'd loth from home to pass, 
Which more it mov'd, the more it sweeter was. 
Happy, O happy ! if they so might bide 

To see their eyes, with how true humbleness, 
They looked down to triumph over pride : 

With how sweet sauce she blam'd their sauciness. 
To feel the panting heart, which through her side. 
Did beat their hands, which durst so near to press, 
To see, to feel, to hear, to taste, to know 
More, than besides her, all the earth could show. 
But never did Medea's golden weed 

On Creon's child his poison sooner throw. 
Than those delights through all their sinews breed, 

A creeping serpent like of mortal woe, 
'Till she broke from their arms (although indeed 
Going from them, from them she could not go) 
And fare-welling the flock, did homeward wend, 
And so that even the Barley-break did end. 
It ended, but the other woe began. 

Began at least to be conceiv'd as woe, 
For then wise Claius found no absence can 

Help him who can no more her sight forego. 
He found man's virtue is but part of man, 
And part must follow where whole man doth go. 
He found that reason's self now reasons found 
To fasten knots, which fancy first had bound. 
So doth he yield, so takes he on his yoke. 

Not knowing who did draw with him therein ; 
Strephon, poor youth, because he saw no smoke, 


Did not conceive what fire he had within ; 
But after this to greater rage it broke, 
'Till of his life it did full conquest win, 

First killing mirth, then banishing all rest. 
Filling his eyes with tears, with sighs his breast, 
Then sports grow pains, all talking tedious : 

On thoughts he feeds, his looks their figure change, 
The day seems long, but night is odious. 

No sleeps, but dreams ; no dreams, but visions strange, 
'Till finding still his evil increasing thus, 

One day he with his flock abroad did range : 

And coming where he hop'd to be alone, 

Thus on a hillock set, he made his moan : 

Alas ! what weights are these that load my heart ! 

I am as dull as winter-starved sheep, 
Tir'd as a jade in over-laden cart, 

Yet thoughts do fly, though I can scarcely creep. 
All visions seem, at every bush I start : 
Drowsy am I, and yet can rarely sleep. 
Sure I bewitched am, it is even that, 
Late near a cross, I met an ugly cat. 
For, but by charms, how fall these things on me, 

That from those eyes, where heav'nly apples been. 
Those eyes, which nothing like themselves can see, 

Of fair Urania, fairer than a green. 
Proudly bedeck'd in April's livery, 
A shot unheard gave me a wound unseen ; 
He was invincible that hurt me so. 
And none invisible, but spirits can go. 
When I see her, my sinews shake for fear. 

And yet, dear soul, I know she hurteth none : 
Amid my flock with woe my voice I tear, 

And, but bewitch' d, who to his flock would moan? 
Her cherry lips, milk hands, and golden hair 
I still do see, though I be still alone. 
Now make me think that there is not a fiend. 
Who hid in angel's shape my life would end. 
The sports wherein I wonted to do well, 

Come she, and sweet the air with open breast, 
Then so I fail, when most I would do well, 

That at my so amaz'd my fellows jest : 
Sometimes to her news of myself to tell 
I go about, but then is all my best 
Wry words, and stammering, or else doltish dumb) 
Say then, can this but of enchantment come ? 
Nay each thing is bewitched to know my case : 
The Nightingales for woe their songs refrain : 
In river as I look'd my pining face, 


As pin'd a face as mine I saw again, 
The courteous mountains griev'd at my disgrace 
Their snowy hair tear off in melting pain. 
And now the dropping trees do weep for me, 
And now fair evenings blush my shame to see. 
But you my pipe whilom my chief delight, 

'Till strange delight, delight to nothing wear, 
And you my flock, care of my careful sight, 
While I was I, and so had cause to care : 
And thou my dog, whose truth and valiant might 
Made wolves, not inward wolves, my ewes to spare. 
Go you not from your master in his woe, 
Let it suffice that he himself forego. 
For though like wax this magic makes me waste, 

Or like a lamb, whose Dam away is set, 
(Stolen from her young by Thieves unchosing haste) 

He treble baa's for help, but none can get. 
Though thus, and worse, though now I am at last, 
Of all the games that here e'er now I met. 
Do you remember still you once were mine, 
'Till mine eyes had their curse from blessed eye. 
Be you with me while I unheard do cry. 

While I do score my losses on the wind. 
While I in heart my will write e'er I die. 

In which, by will, my will and wits I bind, 
Still to be hers, about her aye to fly. 
As this same sprite about my fancies blind 
Doth daily haunt, but so, that mine become 
As much more loving, as less cumbersome. 
Alas ! a cloud hath overcast mine eyes : 

And yet I see her shine amid the cloud. 
Alas ! of ghosts I hear the ghastly cries : 

Yet there, me seems, I hear her singing loud. 
This song she sings in most commanding wise : 
Come shepherd's boy, let now thy heart be bow'd 
To make itself to my least look a slave : 
Leave sleep, leave all, I will no piecing have. 
I will, I will, alas, alas, I will : 

Wilt thou have more ? more have, if more I be. 
Away ragg'd rams, care I what murrain kill ? 

Our shrieking pipe, made of some witched tree : 
Go bawling cur, thy hungry maw go fill 
On your foul flock, belonging not to me. 
With that his dog he henc'd, his flock he curs'd, 
With that, yet kissed first, his pipe he burst. 
This said, this done, he rose, even tir'd with rest. 

With heart as careful, as with careless grace. 
With shrinking legs, but with a swelling breast, 


With eyes which threat'ned they would drown his face. 
Fearing the worst, not knowing what were best, 
And giving to his sight a wand' ring race. 
He saw behind a bush where Claius sat : 
His well-known friend, but yet his unknown mate. 
Claius the wretch, who lately yielden was 

To bear the bonds which time nor wit could break, 
(With blushing soul at sight of judgment's glass. 
While guilty thoughts accus'd his reason weak) 
This morn alone to lovely walk did pass. 
Within himself of her dear self to speak, 
'Till Strephon's plaining voice him nearer drew. 
Where by his words his self-like case he knew. 
For hearing him so oft with words of woe 

Urania name, whose force he knew so well. 
He quickly knew what witchcraft gave the blow. 
Which made his Strephon think himself in hell. 
Which when he did in perfect image show 
To his own wit, thought upon thought, did swell. 
Breeding huge storms within his inward part. 
Which thus breath'd out, with earth-quake of his heart. 

As Lamond would have proceeded, Basilius knowing, by the 
wasting of the torches that the night also was far wasted, and 
withal remembering Zelmane's hurt, asked her whether she thought 
it not better to reserve the complaint of Claius till another day. 
Which she, perceiving the song had already worn out much time, 
and not knowing when Lamon would end, being even now stepping 
over to a new matter, though much delighted with what was 
spoken, willingly agreed unto. And so of all sides they went to 
recommend themselves to the elder brother of death. 



IN these pastoral times a great number of days were sent to 
follow their flying predecessors, while the cup of poison 
(which was deeply tasted of the noble company) had left no 
sinew of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet never 
manifesting his venomous work, till once, that the night (parting 
away angry that she could distil no more sleep into the eyes of 
lovers) had no sooner given place to the breaking out of the 
morning light, and the sun bestowed his beams upon the tops of 
the mountains, but that the woeful Gynecia, to whom rest was no 
ease, had left her loathed lodging, and gotten herself into the 
sohtary places, those deserts were full of going up and down with 
such unquiet motions, as a grieved and hopeless mind is wont to 
bring forth. There appeared unto the eyes of her judgment the 
evils she was like to run into, with ugly infamy waiting upon them : 
she felt the terrors of her own conscience ; she was guilty of a 
long exercised virtue, which made his vice the fuller of deformity. 
The uttermost of the good she could aspire unto was a mortal 
wound to her vexed spirits : and lastly, no small part of her evils 
was that she was wise to see her evils. Insomuch, that having 
a great while thrown her countenance ghastly about her (as if she 
had called all the powers of the world to be witnesses of her 
wretched estate) at length casting up her watery eyes to heaven : 
" O sun," said she, " whose unspotted light directs the steps of 
mortal mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearness 
of thy presence to such a dust-creeping worm as I am? O ye 
heavens, which continually keep the course allotted unto you, can 
none of your influences prevail so much upon the miserable 
Gynecia, as to make her preserve a course so long embraced by 
her ? O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my 
heart can people you with wild ravenous beasts, which in you are 

122 ARCADIA [book ii. 

wanting? O virtue, where dost thou hide thyself? what hideous 
thing- is this which doth eclipse thee ? Or is it true that thou wert 
never but a vain name, and no essential thing, which hast thus 
left thy professed servant, when she had most need of thy lovely 
presence ? O imperfect proportion of reason which can too much 
foresee and too little prevent ? " " Alas ! alas ! " said she, " if 
there were but one hope for all my pains, or but one excuse for 
all my faultiness ! But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond 
all succour, and my evil deserving doth exceed my evil fortune. 
For nothing else did my husband take this strange resolution to 
live so solitary : for nothing else have the winds delivered this 
strange guest to my country : for nothing else have the destinies 
reserved my life to this time, but that only I, most wretched I, 
should become a plague to myself and a shame to womankind. 
Yet if my desire, how unjust soever it be, might take effect, 
though a thousand deaths followed it, and every death were 
followed with a thousand shames, yet should not my sepulchre 
receive me without some contentment. But alas ! though sure 
I am that Zelmane is such as can answer my love, yet as sure 
I am that this disguising must needs come for some foretaken 
conceit : and then wretched Gynecia where canst thou find any 
small ground-plot for hope to dwell upon ? no, no, it is Philoclea 
his heart is set upon ; it is my daughter I have borne to supplant 
me. But if it be so, the life I have given thee, ungrateful Philoclea, 
I will sooner with these hands bereave -thee of than my birth shall 
glory she hath bereaved me of my desires : in shame there is 
no comfort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame." 

Having spoken thus, she began to make a piteous war in her 
fair hair ; when she might hear, not far from her, an extremely 
doleful voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note 
that she could not conceive the words distinctly. But, as a 
lamentable tune is the sweetest music to a woeful mind, she drew 
thither near-way in hope to find some companion of her misery ; 
and as she paced on, she was stopped with a number of trees, so 
thickly placed together that she was afraid she should, with 
rushing through, stop the speech of the lamentable party which 
she was so desirous to understand : and therefore sitting her down 
as softly as she could, for she was now in distance to hear, she 
might first perceive a lute excellently well played upon, and then 
the same doleful voice accompanying it with these verses : 

In vain mine eyes you labour to amend 
With flowing tears your fault of hasty sight : 

Since to my heart her shape you did so send. 
That her I see, though you did lose your light. 


In vain my heart, now you with sight are burn'd, 

With sighs you seek to cool your hot desire : 
Since sighs, into mine inward furnace turn'd, 

For bellows serve to liindle more the fire. 
Reason in vain, now you have lost my heart. 

My head you seek, as to your strongest fort : 
Since there mine eyes have play'd so false a part. 

That to your strength your foes have sure resort. 
Then since in vain I find were all my strife, 
To this strange death I vainly yield my life. 

The ending of the song served but for a beginning of new 
plaints, as if the mind, oppressed with too heavy a burden of 
cares, was fain to discharge itself of all sides, and, as it were, paint 
out the hideousness of the pain in all sorts of colours. For the 
woeful person, as if the lute had evil joined with the voice, threw it 
to the ground with such like words : " Alas, poor lute ! how much 
art thou deceived to think that in my miseries thou could'st ease 
my woes, as in my careless times thou wast wont to please my 
fancies ? The time is changed, my lute, the time is changed ; 
and no more did my joyful mind then receive everything to a joy- 
ful consideration, than my careful mind now makes each thing 
taste the bitter juice of care. The evil is inward, my lute, the evil 
is inward ; which all thou dost, doth serve but to make me think 
more freely of. And alas ! what is then thy harmony, but the 
sweet meats of sorrow? the discord of my thoughts, my lute, 
doth ill agree to the concord of thy strings, therefore be not 
ashamed to leave thy master, since he is not afraid to forsake 

And thus much spoke, instead of a conclusion, was closed up 
with so hearty a groaning that Gynecia could not refrain to show 
herself, thinking such griefs could serve fitly for nothing but her 
own fortune. But as she came into the little arbour of this sorrow- 
ful music, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the 
party that thus had indited herself of misery, so that either of them 
remained confused with a sudden astonishment, Zelmane fearing 
lest she had heard some part of those complaints, which she had 
risen up that morning early of purpose to breathe out in secret to 
herself. But Gynecia a great while stood still with a kind of dull 
amazement, looking steadfastly upon her ; at length returning to 
some use of herself, she began to ask Zelmane what cause carried 
her so early abroad? But, as if the opening of her mouth to 
Zelmane had opened some great flood-gate of sorrow, whereof her 
heart could not abide the violent issue, she sunk to the ground, 
with her hands x)ver her face, crying vehemently, " Zelmane help 
me, O Zelmane have pity on me." Zelmane ran to her, marvelling 

124 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

what sudden sickness had thus possessed her, and beginning to 
ask her the cause of her pain, and offering her service to be 
employed by her ; Gynecia opening her eyes wildly upon her, 
pricked with the flames of love and the torments of her own 
conscience ; " O Zelmane, Zelmane," said she, " dost thou offer 
my physic, which art my only poison ? or wilt thou do me service, 
which hast already brought me into eternal slavery?" Zelmane 
then knowing well at what mark she shot, yet loth to enter into it : 
"Most excellent lady," said she, "you were best retire yourself 
into your lodging that you the better may pass this sudden fit." 
" Retire myself? " said Gynecia, " If I had retired myself into myself, 
when thou to me, unfortunate guest, camest to draw me from my- 
self, blessed had I been, and no need had I had of this counsel. 
But now alas ! I am forced to fly to thee for succour, whom I accuse 
of all my hurt, and make thee judge of my cause, who art the only 
author of my mischief." Zelmane the more astonished, the more 
she understood her ; " Madam," said she, " whereof do you accuse 
me that I will not clear myself? or wherein may I stead you that 
you may not command me ? " " Alas ! " answered Gynecia, " what 
shall I say more ? take pity on me, O Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, 
and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou dost in apparel." 
Zelmane was much troubled with that word, finding herself brought 
to this strait. But as she was thinking what to answer her, they 
might see old Basilius pass hard by them without ever seeing 
them, complaining likewise of love very freshly, and ending his 
complaint with this song, love having renewed both his invention 
and voice. 

Let not old age disgrace my high desire ; 

O heavenly soul in human shape cqntain'd : 
Old wood inflam'd doth yield the bravest fire, 

When younger doth in smoke his virtue spend, 
Nay let white hairs which on my face do grow 

Seem to your eyes of a disgraceful hue, 
Since whiteness doth present the sweetest show. 

Which makes all eyes do homage unto you. 
Old age is wise, and full of constant truth ; 

Old age well stayed, from ranging humour lives : 
Old age hath known whatever was in youth : 

Old age o'ercome, the greater honour gives. 
And to old age since you yourself aspire. 
Let not old age disgrace my high desire. 

Which being done he looked very curiously upon himself, 
sometimes fetching a little skip as if he had said his strength 
had not yet forsaken him : but Zelmane having in this time 


gotten some leisure to think for an answer, looking upon Gynecia 
as if she thought she did her some wrong : " Madam," said she, 
" I am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it 
the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a party with whom it 
is to be used : if my service may please you, employ it, so long as 
you do me no wrong in misjudging of me." " Alas ! Zelmane," 
said Gynecia, " I perceive you know full little how piercing the 
eyes are of a true lover : there is no one beam of those thoughts 
you have planted in me but is able to discern a greater cloud than 
you do go in. Seek not to conceal yourself farther from me, nor 
force not the passion of love into violent extremities." Now was 
Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king turning his eyes 
that way through the trees, perceived his wife and mistress 
together, so that framing the most lovely countenance he could, 
he came straightway towards them, and at the first word, thanking 
his wife for having entertained Zelmane, desired her she would 
now return into the lodge, because he had certain matters of 
estate to impart to the Lady Zelmane. The queen, being nothing 
troubled with jealousy in that point, obeyed the king's command- 
ment, full of raging agonies, and determinately bent that as she 
would seek all loving means to win Zelmane, so she would stir up 
terrible tragedies rather than fail of her intent. And so went she 
from them to the lodge-ward with such a battle in her thoughts, 
and so deadly an overthrow given to her best resolutions that even 
her body, where the field was fought, was oppressed withal, making 
a languishing sickness wait upon the triumph of passion, which the 
more it prevailed in her, the more it made her jealousy watchful, 
both over her daughter and Zelmane, having ever one of them 
intrusted to her own eyes. 

But as soon as Basilius was rid of his wife's presence, falling 
down on his knees, " O lady," said he, " which hast only had the 
power to stir up again those flames which had so long lain dead 
in me, see in me the power of your beauty, which can make old 
age come to ask counsel of youth, and a prince unconquered to 
become a slave to a stranger : and when you see that power of 
yours, love that at least in me, since it is yours, although of me 
you see nothing to be loved." "Worthy prince" (answered 
Zelmane, taking him up from his kneeling) " both your manner 
and your speech are so strange unto me that I know not how to 
answer it better than with silence." " If silence please you," said 
the king, "it shall never displease me, since my heart is wholly 
pledged to obey you, otherwise, if you would vouchsafe mine 
ears such happiness as to hear you, they shall convey your words 
to such a mind as will with the humblest degree of reverence 
receive them." " I disdain not to speak to you, mighty prince," 

126 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

said Zelmane, "but I disdain to speak of any matter which may 
bring my honour into question" : and therewith, with a brave 
counterfeited scorn she departed from the king, leaving him not so 
sorry for his short answer as proud in himself that he had broken 
the matter. And thus did the king, feeding his mind with those 
thoughts, pass great time in writing verses, and making more of 
himself than he was wont to do, that, with a little help, he would 
have grown into a pretty kind of dotage. 

But Zelmane being rid of this loving, but little loved company, 
" Alas ! " said she, " poor Pyrodes, was there ever one, but I, that 
had received wrong, and could blame nobody ? that having more 
than I desire, am still in want of what I would ? truly, love, I must 
needs say thus much on my behalf; thou hast employed my 
love there, where all love is deserved ; and for recompence hast 
sent me more love than ever I desired. But what wilt thou do 
Pyrocles ? which way canst thou find to rid thee of thy intricate 
troubles ? to her whom I would be known to I live in darkness ; 
and to her am revealed from whom I would be most secret. 
What shift shall I find against the diligent love of Basilius ? what 
shield against the violent passions of Gynecia? and if that be 
done, yet how am I the nearer to quench the fire that consumes 
me ? Well, well, sweet Philoclea, my whole confidence must be 
builded in thy divine spirit which cannot be ignorant of the cruel 
wound I have received by you.'' 

But as sick folks when they are alone think company woidd 
relieve them, and yet having company do find it noisome, changing 
willingly outward objects, when indeed the evil is inward, so poor 
Zelmane was no more weary of Basilius, than she was of herself 
when Basilius was gone : and ever the more, the more she turned 
her eyes to become her own judges. Tired therewith, she longed 
to meet her friend Dorus that upon the shoulders of friendship 
she might lay the burden of sorrow, and therefore went toward 
the other lodge, where among certain beeches she found' Dorus, 
apparelled in flannel, with a goats-skin cast upon him and a 
garland of laurel mix'd with cypress leaves on his head, waiting on 
his master Dametas, who at that time was teaching him how with 
his sheep-hook to catch a wanton lamb, and how with the same 
to cast a little clod at any one that strayed out of company. 
And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas holding 
his hand under his girdle behind him, nodding from the waist 
upwards, and swearing he never knew man go more awkwardly 
to work, and that they might talk of book-learning what they 
would, but for his part he never saw more unfeaty fellows than 
great clerks were. 

But Zelmane's coming saved Dorus from further chiding. 


And so she beginning to speak with him of the number of his 
master's sheep, and which province of Arcadia bare the finest 
wool, drew him on to follow her in such country-discourses ; 
till, iieing out of Dametas's hearing, with such vehemency of 
passion, as though her heart would climb into her mouth to take 
her tongues office, she declared unto him upon what briars the 
roses of her affections grew ; how time still seemed to forget her, 
bestowing no one hour of comfort upon her ; she remaining still in 
one plight of ill fortune, saving so much worse as continuance of 
evil doth in itself increase evil. " Alas, my Dorus," said she, 
"thou seest how long and languishingly the weeks are past 
over since our last talking. And yet I am the same, miserable I, 
that I was, only stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping." Then 
fell she to so pitiful a declaration of the insupportableness of her 
desires that Dorus's ears, not able to show what wounds that dis- 
course gave unto them, procured his eyes with tears to give 
testimony how much they suffered for her suffering ; till passion, 
a most cumbersome guest to itself, made Zelmane, the sooner to 
shake it off, earnestly entreat Dorus that he also, with like freedom 
of discourse, would bestow a map of his little world upon her that 
she might see whether it were troubled with such unhabitable 
climes of cold despairs and hot rages as hers was. 

And so walking under a few palm-trees (which being loving in 
her own nature seemed to give their shadow the willinglier because 
they held discourse of love) Dorus thus entered to the description 
of his fortune. 

"Alas," said he, "dear cousin, that it hath pleased the high 
power to throw us to such an estate as the only intercourse of our 
true friendship must be a bartering of miseries : for my part, I 
must confess, indeed, that from a huge darkness of sorrows I am 
crept, I cannot say to a lightsomeness, but, to a certain dawning, 
or rather peeping out of some possibility of comfort : but woe is 
me ; so far from the mark of my desires, that I rather think it such 
a light as comes through a small hole to a dungeon that the 
miserable caitiff may the better remember the light of which he is 
deprived, or, like a scholar who is only come to that degree of 
knowledge to find himself utterly ignorant : but thus stands it with 
me. After that by your means I was exalted to serve in yonder 
blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this 
refreshing that, because of the service I had done in killing of the 
bear, it pleased the princess, in whom indeed stateliness shines 
through courtesy, to let fall some gracious look upon me : some- 
times to see my exercise, sometime to hear my songs. For my 
part, my heart would not suffer me to omit any occasion whereby 
I might make the incomparable Pamela see how much extra- 


ordinary devotion I bare to her service : and withal strove to appear 
more worthy in her sight, that small desert, joined to so great 
affection, might prevail something in the wisest lady. But too 
well, alas 1 I found that a shepherd's service was but considered 
of as from a shepherd, and the acceptation limited to no further 
proportion than of a good servant. And when my countenance 
had once given notice that there lay affection under it, I saw 
straight, majesty, sitting in the throne of beauty, draw forth such a 
sword of just disdain that I remained as a man thunderstruck, not 
daring, no not able to behold that power. Now to make my estate 
known, seemed again impossible, by reason of the suspiciousness 
of Dametas, Miso and my young mistress Mopsa : for Dametas, 
according to the constitution of a dull head, thinks no better way 
to show himself wise than by suspecting everything in his way, 
which suspicion Miso, for the hoggish shrewdness of her brain, 
and Mopsa (for a very unlikely envy she hath stumbled upon 
against the princess's unspeakable beauty) were very glad to 
execute : so that I (finding my service by this means lightly re- 
garded, my affection despised, and myself unknown) remained no 
fuller of desire than void of counsel how to come to my desire ; 
which, alas ! if these trees could speak, they might well witness^ 
for many times have I stood here, bewailing myself unto them, 
many times have I, leaning to yonder palm, admired the blessed- 
ness of it, that it could bear love without sense of pain ; many 
times, when my master's cattle came hither to chew their cud in 
this fresh place, I might see the young bull testify his love ? but 
how ? with proud looks and joyfulness. ' O wretched mankind,' 
said I then to myself, ' in whom wit, which should be tlie governor 
of his welfare, becomes the traitor to his blessedness : these beasts, 
like children to nature, inherit her blessings quietly ; we like 
bastards are laid abroad, even as fondlings, to be trained up by 
grief and sorrow. Their minds grudge not at their bodies comfort, 
nor their senses are letted from enjoying their objects ; we have the 
impediments of honour, and the torments of conscience.' Truly in 
such cogitations I have sometimes so long stood that methought 
my feet began to grow into the ground, with such a darkness and 
heaviness of mind, that I might easily have been persuaded to have 
resigned over my very essence. But love (which one time lay 
burdens, another time giveth wings) when I was at the lowest of 
my downward thoughts, pulled up my heart to remember, that 
nothing is achieved before it be throughly attempted, and that 
lying still, doth never go forward ; and that therefore it was time, 
now or never, to sharpen my invention, to pierce through the 
hardness of this enterprize, never ceasing to assemble all my 
conceits, one after another, how to manifest both my mind and 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 129 

estate, till at last I lighted and resolved on this way, which yet 
perchance you will think was a way rather to hide it. I began to 
counterfeit the extremest love towards Mopsa that might be ; and 
as for the love, so lively it was indeed within me, although to 
another subject, that little I needed to counterfeit any notable 
demonstrations of it ; and so making a contrariety the place of my 
memory, in her foulness I beheld Pamela's fairness, still looking 
on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela, as if I saw my sun shine in a 
puddled water : I cried out of nothing but Mopsa, to Mopsa my 
attendance was directed ; to Mopsa the best fruits I could gather 
were brought ; to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eyes conveyed 
my tongue : so that Mopsa was my saying ; Mopsa was my sing- 
ing ; Mopsa (that is only suitable in laying a foul complexion upon 
a filthy favour, setting forth both in sluttishness) she was the load- 
star of my life ; she the blessing of mine eyes ; she the overthrow 
of my desires, and yet the recompence of my overthrow ; she the 
sweetness of my heart, even sweetening the death which her 
sweetness drew upon me. In sum, whatsoever I thought of 
Pamela, that I said of Mopsa ; whereby as I got my master's 
goodwill, who before spited me, fearing lest I should win the 
princess's favour from him, so did the same make the princess the 
better content to allow me her presence : whether indeed it were 
that a certain spark of noble indignation did rise in her not to 
suffer such a baggage to win away anything of hers, how meanly 
soever she reputed of it, or rather, as I think, my words being so 
passionate, and shooting so quite contrary from the marks of 
Mopsa's worthiness, she perceived well enough whither they were 
directed ; and therefore being so masked, she was contented as a 
sport of wit to attend them : whereupon one day determining to 
find some means to tell, as of a third person, the tale of mine own 
love and estate, finding Mopsa, like a cuckoo by a nightingale, alone 
with Pamela, I came in unto them, and with a face, I am sure, full 
of cloudy fancies, took a harp and sung this song : 

Since so mine eyes are subject to your sight. 
That in your sight they fixed have my brain: 

Since so my heart is filled with that light, 
That only light doth all my life maintain. 

Since in sweet you, all goods so richly reign, 

That where you are, no wished good can want 
Since so your living image lives in me, 
That in myself yourself true love doth plant : 
How can you him unworthy then decree. 
In whose chief part your worths implanted be? 

130 ARCADIA [book ii. 

"The song being ended, which I had often broken off in the 
midst with grievous sighs which overtook every verse I sung, 
I let fall my harp from me, and casting mine eye sometimes upon 
Mopsa, but settling my sight principally upon Pamela. ' And is 
it the only fortune, most beautiful Mopsa,' said I, 'of wretched 
Dorus that fortune must be the measure of his mind? am I only 
he, that because I am in misery more misery must be laid upon 
me ? must that which should be cause of compassion become an 
argument of cruelty against me ? alas ! excellent Mopsa, consider 
that a virtuous prince requires the life of his meanest subject, and 
the heavenly sun disdains not to give light to the smallest worm. 
O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my heart could be as manifest to you, as it is 
uncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should 
well countervail the lowness of my quality. Who hath not heard 
of the greatness of your estate ? who seeth not that your estate is 
much excelled with that sweet uniting of all beauties which 
remaineth and dwelleth with you ? who knows not that all these 
are but ornaments of that divine spark within you which, being 
descended from heaven, could not elsewhere pick out so sweet 
a mansion ? but if you will know what is the band that ought to 
knit all these excellencies together, it is a kind mercifulness to 
such a one as is in his soul devoted to those perfections. Mopsa, 
who already had had a certain smackring towards me, stood all 
this while with her hands sometimes before her face, but most 
commonly with a certain special grace of her own, wagging her 
lips, and grinning instead of smiling : but all the words I could get 
of her was, wrying her waist, and thrusting out her chin, ' in faith 
you jest with me : you are a merry man indeed.' 

"But the ever pleasing Pamela (that well found the comedy 
would be marred if she did not help Mopsa to her part), was 
content to urge a little farther of me. ' Master Dorus,' said the 
fair Pamela, ' methinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully, 
since the fault is not in fortune but in you that cannot frame 
yourself to your fortune, and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to 
so great a disparagement as to her father's servant, since she is 
not worthy to be loved that hath not some feeling of her own 
worthiness.' I stayed a good while after her words, in hopes she 
would have continued her speech, so great a delight I received 
in hearing her, but seeing her say no farther, with a quaking all 
over my body, I thus answered her : ' Lady, most worthy of all 
duty how falls it out that you, in whom all virtues shine, will take 
the patronage of fortune, the only -rebellious handmaid against 
virtue ; especially, since before your eyes you have a pitiful 
spectacle of her wickedness, a forlorn creature, which must remain 
not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be 


the balance of worthiness or disparagement. Yet alas ! if the 
condemned man, even at his death, have leave to speak, let my 
mortal wound purchase thus much consideration ; since the 
perfections are such in the party I love, as the feeling of them 
cannot come into any unnoble heart, shall that heart, which doth 
not only feel them, but hath all the working of his life placed in 
them, shall that heart, I say, lifted up to such a height, be counted 
base? O let not an excellent spirit do itself such wrong as to 
think where it is placed, embraced and loved, there can be any 
unworthiness, since the weakest mist is not easier driven away 
by the sun than that is chased away with so high thoughts.' 
'I will not deny,' answered the gracious Pamela, 'but that the 
love you bear to Mopsa, hath brought you to the consideration of 
her virtues, and that consideration may have made you the more 
virtuous, and so the more worthy : but even that then, you must 
confess, you have received of her, and so are rather gratefully to 
thank her, than to press any farther, till you bring something of 
your own, whereby to claim it. And truly Dorus, I must in 
Mopsa's behalf say thus much to you, that if her beauties have 
so overtaken you, it becomes a true lover to have your heart more 
set upon her good than your own, and to bear a tenderer respect 
to her honour than your satisfaction.' 'Now by my hallidame, 
madam,' said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheep's eyes 
upon me, 'you have even touched mine own mind to the quick, 

"I finding that the policy that I had used had at least wise 
produced thus much happiness unto me, as that I might, even in 
my lady's presence, discover the sore which had deeply festered 
within me, and that she could better conceive my reasons applied 
to Mopsa, than she would have vouchsafed them, whilst herself 
was a party, thought good to pursue on my good beginning, using 
this fit occasion of Pamela's wit, and Mopsa's ignorance. There- 
fore with an humble piercing eye, looking upon Pamela as if I had 
rather been condemned by her mouth than highly exalted by the 
other, turning myself to Mopsa, but keeping mine eye where it 
was : ' Fair Mopsa,' said I, ' well do I find by the wise knitting 
together of your answer that any disputation I can use is as much 
too weak, as I unworthy. I find my love shall be proved no love, 
without I leave to love, being too unfit a vessel in whom so high 
thoughts should be engraven. Yet since the love I bear you hath 
so joined itself to the best part of my life, as the one cannot depart 
but that the other will follow, before I seek to obey you in making 
my last passage, let me know which is my unworthiness, either 
of mind, estate, or both?' Mopsa was about to say, in neither; 
for her heart I think tumbled with overmuch kindness, when 

132 ARCADIA [BooKii. 

Pamela with ar more favourable countenance than before, finding 
how apt I was to fall into despair, told me I might therein have 
answered myself, for besides that it was granted me that the in- 
ward feeling of Mopsa's perfections had greatly beautified my mind, 
there was none could deny but that my mind and body deserved 
great allowance. 'But Dorus,' said she, 'you must be so far 
master of your love, as to consider that since the judgment of 
the world stands upon matter of fortune, and that the sex of 
womankind of all other is most bound to have regardful eye to 
men's judgments, it is not for us to play the philosophers in 
seeking out your hidden virtues, since that which in a wise 
prince would be counted wisdom, in us will be taken for a light 
grounded affection : so is not one thing, one done by divers 

" There is no man in a burning fever feels so great contentment 
in cold water greedily received (which as soon as the drink ceaseth, 
the rage reneweth) as poor I found my soul refreshed with her 
sweetly pronounced words ; and newly and more violently again 
inflamed as soon as she had enclosed up her delightful speech 
with no less well graced silence. But remembering in myself 
that as well the soldier dieth which standeth still as he that 
gives the bravest onset, and seeing that to the making up of my 
fortune there wanted nothing so much as the making known of 
mine estate, with a face well witnessing how deeply my soul 
was possessed, and with the most submissive behaviour that 
a thralled heart could express, even as my words had been too 
thick for my mouth, at length spoke to this purpose : ' Alas, most 
worthy Princess,' said I, ' and do not then your own sweet words 
sufficiently testify that there was never man could have a juster 
action against filthy fortune than I, since all things being granted 
me, her blindness is my only let? O heavenly God, I would 
either she had such eyes as were able to discern my desires, or 
were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet,' 
said I, ' most honoured lady, if my miserable speeches have not 
already cloyed you, and that the very presence of such a wretch 
become not hateful in your eyes, let me reply thus much farther 
against my mortal sentence, by telling you a story which happened 
in this same country long since, for woes make the shortest time 
seem long, whereby you shall see that my estate is not so con- 
temptible, but that a prince hath been content to take the like upon 
him, and by that only hath aspired to enjoy a mighty princess.' 
Pamela graciously barkened, and I told my tale in this sort. 

" ' In the country of Thessalia (alas ! why name I that accursed 
country which brings forth nothing but matters of tragedy? but 
name it I must) in Thessalia, I say, there was (well may 1 say 

b6ok ii.j Arcadia 133 

there was) a prince, no, no prince, whom bondage wholly possessed, 
but yet accounted a prince, and named Musidorus. O Musidorus, 
Musidorus ! But to what serve exclamations, where there are no 
ears to receive the sound? This Musidorus being yet in the 
tenderest age, his worthy father payed to nature, with a violent 
death, her last duties, leaving his child to the faith of his friends, 
and the proof of time : death gave him not such pangs as the 
fore-sightful care he had of his silly successor. And yet if in his 
foresight he could have seen so much, happy was that good prince 
in his timely departure which barred him from the knowledge of 
his son's miseries, which his knowledge could neither have pre- 
vented nor relieved. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the 
first pledge of the destinies goodwill, deprived of his principal 
stay) was yet for some years after, as if the stars would breathe 
themselves for a greater mischief, lulled up in as much good luck 
as the heedful love of his doleful mother, and the flourishing estate 
of his country could breed unto him. 

" But when the time now came that misery seemed to be ripe 
for him, because he had age to know misery, I think there was a 
conspiracy in all heavenly and earthly things to frame fit occasions 
to lead him unto it. His people, to whom all foreign matters in 
foretime were odious, began to wish in their beloved prince, 
experience by travel : his dear mother, whose eyes were held open 
only with the joy of looking upon him, did now dispense with the 
comfort of her widowed life, desiring the same her subjects did, for 
the increase of her son's worthiness. 

" And hereto did Musidorus's own virtue, see how virtue can be 
a minister to mischief, sufficiently provoke him ; for indeed thus 
much must I say for him, although the likeness of our mishaps 
makes me presume to pattern myself unto him, that well-doing 
was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could 
with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit all this 
together, was his uncle the king of Macedon who, having lately 
before gotten such victories as were beyond expectation, did at 
this time send both for the prince his son (brought up together, to 
avoid the wars, with Musidorus) ; and for Musidorus himself, that 
his joy might be the more full, having such partakers of it. But 
alas ! to what a sea of miseries my plaintful tongue doth lead me?' 
and thus out of breath, rather with that I thought than that I said, 
I stayed my speech, till Pamela showing by countenance that such 
was her pleasure, I thus continued it : ' These two young princes, 
to satisfy the king, took their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether 
they would needs go with a navy to succour him, he being at that 
time before Bizantium with a mighty army besieging it, where at 
that time his court was. But when the conspired heavens had 

134 AkCADtA tnooK II. 

gotten this subject of their wrath upon so fit place as the sea was, 
they straight began to breathe out in boisterous winds some part of 
their malice against him, so that with the loss of all his navy, he 
only with the prince his cousin, were cast aland far off from the 
place whither their desires would have guided them. O cruel 
winds, in your unconsiderate rages, why either began you this fury, 
or why did you not end it in his end ? but your cruelty was such, 
as you would spare his life for many deathful torments. To tell 
you what pitiful mishaps fell to the young prince of Macedon his 
cousin, I should too much fill your ears with strange horrors ; 
neither will I stay upon those laboursome adventures, nor loath- 
some misadventures to which, and through whicl^ his fortune and 
courage conducted him ; my speech hasteneth itself to come to 
the full point of Musidorus's misfortunes. For, as we find the 
most pestilent diseases do gather in themselves all the infirmities 
with which the body before was annoyed, so did his last misery 
embrace in extremity of itself all his former mischiefs. Arcadia j 
Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endless over- 
throw ; Arcadia was, alas ! well might I say it is, the charmed 
circle where all his spirits for ever should be enchanted. For 
here, and nowhere else, did his infected eyes make his mind 
know what power heavenly beauty had to throw it down to hellish 
agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian king's eldest 
daughter, in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of joy, and 
joyful parts of his heart that he left in himself nothing but a maze 
of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas ! what can saying 
make them believe, whom seeing cannot persuade? those pains 
must be felt before they can be understood ; no outward utterance 
can command a conceit. Such was as then the state of the king, 
as it was no time by direct means to seek her. And such was the 
state of his captivated will as he could delay no time of seeking her. 
" In this entangled cause, he clothed himself in a shepherd's 
weed, that under the baseness of that form, he might at last have 
free access to feed his eyes with that which should at length eat up 
his heart. In which doing, thus much without doubt he hath 
manifested that this estate is not always to be rejected, since 
under that veil there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And 
if he might with taking on a shepherd's look cast up his eyes to 
the fairest princess nature in that time created, the like, nay the 
same desire of mine need no more to be disdained, or held for 
disgraceful. But now alas ! mine eyes wax dim, my tongue begins 
to falter, and my heart to want force to help either, with the feeling 
remembrance I have, in what heap of miseries the caitiff prince 
lay at this time buried. Pardon therefore most excellent princess, 
if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since, if I be understood, 


I have said enough for the defence of ray baseness, and for that 
which after might befall to that pattern of ill fortune, the matters 
are too monstrous for my capacity, his hateful destinies must best 
declare their own workmanship.' " 

Thus having delivered his tale in this perplexed manner, to the 
end the princess might judge that he meant himself, who spoke so 
feelingly ; her answer was both strange, and in some respect 
comfortable. For would you think it ? she hath heard heretofore 
of us both by means of the valiant prince Plangus, and particularly 
of our casting away, which she (following mine own style) thus 
delicately brought forth: "you have told," said she, " Dorus, a 
pretty tale, but you are much deceived in the latter end of it. For 
the Prince Musidorus with his cousin Pyrocles did both perish 
upon the coast of Laconia, as a noble gentleman called Plangus, 
who was well acquainted with the history, did assure my father." 

how that speech of hers did pour joys in my heart ! O blessed 
name, thought I, of mine, since thou hast been in that tongue, and 
passed through those lips, though I can never hope to approach 
them. "As for Pyrocles," said I, "I will not deny it, but that he 
is perished : " (which I said lest sooner suspicion might arise of 
your being here than yourself would have it) and yet affirmed no 
lie unto her, since I only said, I would not deny it. " But for 
Musidorus," said I, " I perceive indeed you have either heard or 
read the story of that unhappy prince ; for this was the very 
objection which that peerless princess did make unto him, when 
he sought to appear such as he was before her wisdom : and thus 

1 have read it fair written in the certainty of my knowledge, he 
might answer her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a 
treason was perished ; and therefore that Plangus might easily be 
deceived, but that he himself was cast upon the coast of Laconia, 
where he was taken up by a couple of shepherds, who hved in 
those days famous ; for that both loving one fair maid, they yet 
remained constant friends ; one of whose songs not long since was 
sung before you by the shepherd Lamon, and brought by them to 
a nobleman's house near Mantinea, whose son had, a little before 
his marriage, been taken prisoner, and by the help of this prince 
Musidorus, though naming himself by another name, was delivered." 
Now these circumlocutions I did use, because of the one side I 
knew the princess would know well the parties I meant ; and of 
the other, if I should have named Strephon, Claius, Kalander and 
Clitophon, perhaps it would have rubb'd some conjecture into the 
heavy head of mistress Mopsa. 

" And therefore," said I, " most divine lady, he justly was thus 
to argue against such suspicions, that the prince might easily by 
those parties be satisfied, that upon that wreck such a one was 


taken up, and therefore that Plangus might well err, who knew not 
of any one's taking up : again that he that was so preserved 
brought good tokens to be one of the two, chief of that wrecked 
company : which two, since Plangus knew to be Musidorus and 
Pyrocles, he must needs be one of them, although, as I said, 
upon a fore-taken vow, he was otherwise at that time called. 
Besides, the princess must needs judge that no less than a prince 
durst undertake such an enterprise, which, though he might get 
the favour of the princess, he could never defend with less than a 
prince's power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, said he, for a 
certain demonstration, he presumed to show unto the princess a 
mark he had on his face, as I might," said I, " show this of my 
neck to the rare Mopsa : " and, withal, showed my neck to them 
both, where, as you know, there is a red spot bearing figure, as 
they tell me, of a lion's paw, that she may ascertain herself, that I 
am Menalcha's brother. " And so did he, beseeching her to send 
someone she might trust into Thessalia, secretly to be advertised 
whether the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable 
sign, did not fully agree with their prince Musidorus." " Do you 
not know farther," said she, with a settled countenance not 
accusing any kind of inward motion, "of that story?" "Alas, no," 
said I, "for even here the historiographer stopped, saying, the rest 
belonged to astrology." And therewith, thinking her silent 
imaginations began to work upon somewhat to mollify them, as 
the nature of music is to do, and, withal, to show what kind of 
shepherd I was, I took up my harp, and sang these few verses : 

My sheep are thoughts, which I both guide and serve, 

Their pasture is fair hills of fruitless love : 
On barren sweets they feed, and feeding' starve : 

I wail their lot, but will not other prove. 
My sheep-hook is wan hope, which all upholds : 
My weeds, desire, cut out in endless folds. 
What wool my sheep shall bear, whiles thus they live. 
In you it is, you must the judgment give. 

" And then, partly to bring Mopsa again to the matter, lest she 
should too much take heed to our discourses, but principally, if it 
were possible to gather some comfort out of her answers, I kneeled 
down to the princess, and humbly besought her to move Mopsa in 
my behalf, that she would unarm her noble heart of that steely 
resistance against the sweet blows of love : that since all her parts 
were decked with some particular ornament ; her face with beauty, 
her head with wisdom, her eyes with majesty, her countenance 
with gracefulness, her lips with loveliness, her tongue with victory, 
that she would make her heart the throne of pity, being the most 


excellent raiment of the most excellent part. Pamela without show 
either of favour or disdain, either of heeding or neglecting what I 
had said, turned her speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and 
action, as might show she spoke of a matter which little did con- 
cern her; 'Take heed to yourself,' said she, Mopsa, 'for your 
shepherd can speak well : but truly, if he do fully prove himself 
such as he saith, I mean, the honest shepherd Menalcas's brother 
and heir, I know no reason why you should think scorn of him.' 
Mopsa though, in my conscience, she were even then far spent 
towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my quaint speeches, 
she would keep her honesty close enough, and that, as for the way 
of matrimony, she would step never a foot farther till my master, 
her father, had spoken the whole word himself, no she would not. 
But ever and anon turning her muzzle towards me, she threw such 
a prospect upon me as might well have given a surfeit to any weak 
lover's stomach. But, lord, what a fool am I, to mingle that drivel's 
speeches among my noble thoughts ! but because she was an actor 
in this tragedy, to give you a full knowledge, and to leave nothing 
that I can remember, unrepeated. 

" Now the princess being about to withdraw herself from us, I 
took a jewel made in the figure of a crab-fish, which, because it 
looks one way and goes another, I thought it did fitly pattern out 
my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela : the word about it 
was, ' By force, not choice ; ' and still kneeling, besought the 
princess that she would vouchsafe to give it Mopsa, and with the 
blessedness of her hand to make acceptable unto her that toy which 
I had found following of late an acquaintance of mine at the 
plough. 'For,' said I, 'as the earth was turned up, the plough- 
share lighted upon a great stone ; we puU'd that up, and so found 
both that and some other pretty things which we had divided 
betwixt us.' 

" Mopsa was benumbed with joy when the princess gave it her : 
but in the princess I could find no apprehension of what I either 
said or did, but with a calm carelessness letting each thing slide 
(just as we do by their speeches who neither in matter nor person 
do anyway belong unto us) which kind of cold temper, mix'd 
with that lightening of her natural majesty, is of all others most 
terrible unto me : for yet if I found she contemned me, I would 
desperately labour both in fortune and virtue to overcome it ; if 
she only misdoubted me I were in heaven ; for quickly I would 
bring sufficient assurance ; lastly, if she hated me, yet I should 
know what passion to deal with ; and either with infiniteness of 
desert I would take away the fuel from that fire ; or if nothing 
would serve, then I would give her my heart's blood to quench it. 
But this cruel quietness, neither retiring to mislike, nor proceeding 

138 ARCADIA [BOOK ir. 

to favour ; gracious, but gracious still after one manner ; all her 
courtesies, having this engraven in them that what is done, is for 
virtue's sake, not for the parties, ever keeping her course like the 
sun, who neither for our praises nor curses will spur or stop his 
horses. This, I say, heavenliness of hers, for howsoever my misery 
is, I cannot but so entitle it, is so impossible to reach unto that I 
almost begin to submit myself to the tyranny of despair, not know- 
ing any way of persuasion, where wisdom seems to be unsensible. 
I have appeared to her eyes like myself, by a device I used with 
my master, persuading him that we two might put on certain rich 
apparel 1 had provided, and so practice something on horseback 
before Pamela, telling him, it was apparel I had gotten for playing 
well the part of a king in a tragedy at Athens : my horse indeed 
was it I had left at Menalcas's house, and Dametas gotone by friend- 
ship out of the prince's stable. But howsoever I show, I am np 
base body, all I do is but to beat a rock and get foam." 

But as Dorus was about to tell farther, Dametas (who came 
whistling, and counting upon his fingers how many load of hay 
seventeen fat oxen eat up in a year) desired Zelmane from the 
king that she would come into the lodge where they stayed for 
her. "Alas !" said Dorus, taking his leave, "the sum is this, that 
you may well find you have beaten your sorrow against such a 
wall, which, with the force of a rebound, may well make your 
sorrow stronger." But Zelmane turning her speech to Dametas, 
" I shall grow," said she, " skilful in country matters if I have often 
conference with your servant." " In sooth," answered Dametas 
with a graceless scorn, " the lad may prove well enough, if he over 
soon think not too well of himself, and will bear away that he 
heareth of his elders." And therewith as they walked to the other 
lodge, to make Zelmane find she might have spent her time better 
with him, he began with a wild method to run over all the art of 
husbandry, especially employing his tongue about well dunging 
of a field, while poor Zelmane yielded her ears to those tedious 
strokes, not warding them so much as with any one answer, till 
they came to Basilius and Gynecia, who attended for her in a 
coach to carry her abroad to see some sports prepared for her. 
Basilius and Gynecia, sitting in the one end, placed her at the 
other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moved in her 
mind to have kissed their feet for the favour of so blessed a seat, 
for the narrowness of the coach made them join from the foot to 
the shoulders very close together, the truer touch whereof though 
it were barred by their envious apparel, yet as a perfect magnet, 
though but in an ivory box, will through the box send forth 
his embracing virtue to a beloved needle, so this imparadised 
neighbourhood made Zelmane's soul cleave unto her, both through 

iooK 11.] ARCADIA t39 

the ivory case of her body and the apparel which did overcloud it. 
All the blood of Zelmane's body stirring in her, as wine will do 
when sugar is hastily put into it, seeking to suck the sweetness of 
the beloved guest : her heart like a lion new imprisoned, seeing 
him that restrains his liberty before the grate, not panting, but 
striving violently, if it had been possible, to have leaped into the 
lap of Philoclea. But Dametas, even then proceeding from being 
master of a cart, to be doctor of a coach, not a little proud in him- 
self that his whip at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, drove 
the coach, the cover whereof was made with such joints that as 
they might, to avoid the weather, pull it up close when they listed, 
so when they would they might put each end down and remain as 
discovered and open sighted as on horseback, till upon the side of 
the forest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds, whereof 
the first might seem the lords, the second the gentlemen, and the 
last the yeoman of dogs ; a cast of merlins there was besides, 
which, flying of a gallant height over certain bushes, would beat 
the birds that rose down into the bushes, as falcons will do wild- 
fowl over a river. But the sport which for that day Basilius would 
principally show to Zelmane, was the mounty at a heron, which 
getting up on his waggling wings with pain, till he was come to 
some height (as though the air next to the earth were not fit for 
his great body to fly through) was now grown to diminish the sight 
of himself, and to give example to great persons that the higher 
they be the less they should show ; when a jerfaulcon was cast off 
after her, who straight spying where the prey was, fixing her eye 
with desire, and guiding her wing by her eye, used no more 
strength than industry. For as a good builder to a high tower will 
not make his stair upright, but winding almost the full compass 
about, that the steepness be the more unsensible, so she, seeing the 
towering of her pursued chase, went circling and compassing 
about, rising so with the less sense of rising, and yet finding that 
way scantly serve the greediness of her haste, as an ambitious 
body will go far out of the direct way to win to a point of height 
which he desires ; so would she, as it were, turn tail to the heron, 
and fly out quite another way, but all was to return in a higher 
pitch, which once gotten, she would either beat with cruel assaults 
the heron, who now was driven to the best defence of force, since 
flighf would not serve, or else clasping with him, come down 
together, to be parted by the over-partial beholders. 

Divers of which flights Basilius showing to Zelmane, thus was 
the riches of the time spent, and the day deceased before it was 
thought of, till night like a degenerating successor made his 
departure the better remembered. And therefore, so constrained, 
they willed Dametas to drive homeward, who, half sleeping, half 

146 AkCADlA tsooK II. 

musing about the mending of a wine-press, guided the horses 
so ill that the wheel coming over a great stub of a tree, it over- 
turned the coach. Which though it fell violently upon the side 
where Zelmane and Gynecia sat, yet for Zelmane's part, she would 
have been glad of the fall which made her bear the sweet burden 
of Philoclea, but that she feared she might receive some hurt. 
But indeed neither she did, nor any of the rest, by reason they 
kept their arms and legs within the coach, saving Gynecia, who 
with the only bruise of the fall, had her shoulder put out of joint, 
which, though by one of the falconers cunning it was set well 
again, yet with much pain was she brought to the lodge ; and pain, 
fetching his ordinary companion, a fever, with him, drove her 
to entertain them both in her bed. 

But neither was the fever of such impatient heat, as the inward 
plague-sore of her affection, nor the pain half so noisome, as the 
jealousy she conceived of her daughter Philoclea, lest this time 
of her sickness might give apt occasion to Zelmane, whom she 
misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it 
were late in the night, commanded her in her ear to go to the 
other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speak, 
and she to lie with her sister Pamela. The meanwhile Gynecia 
kept Zelmane with her, because she would be sure she should be 
out of the lodge before she licensed Zelmane. Philoclea, not 
skill'd in any thing better than obedience, went quietly down, and 
the moon then full, not thinking scorn to be a torch-bearer to such 
beauty, guided her steps, whose motions bear a mind which bare 
in itself far more stirring motions. And alas ! sweet Philoclea, 
how hath my pen till now forgot thy passions, since to thy memory 
principally all this long matter is intended ? pardon the slackness 
to come to those woes, which, having caused in others, thou didst 
feel in thyself. 

The sweet minded Philoclea was in their degree of well-doing, 
to whom the not knowing of evil serveth for a ground of virtue, 
and hold their inward powers in better form with an unspotted 
simplicity, than many who rather cunningly seek to know what 
goodness is than willingly take into themselves the following of 
it. But as that sweet and simple breath of heavenly goodness is 
the easier to be altered because it hath not passed through the 
worldly wickedness, nor feelingly found the evil that evil carries 
with it, so now the lady Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had 
received nothing, but according as the natural course of each thing 
required ; whose tender youth had obediently lived under her 
parents behests, without framing out of her own will the fore- 
choosing of any thing) when now she came to a point wherein her 
judgment was to be practised in knowing faultiness by his first 


tokens, she was like a young fawn who, coming in the wind of the 
hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or not to be 
eschewed ; whereof at this time she began to get a costly ex- 
perience. For after that Zelmane had a while lived in the lodge 
with her, and that her only being a noble stranger had bred a kind 
of heedful attention ; her coming to that lonely place, where she 
had nobody but her parents, a willingness of conversation ; her 
wit and behaviour a hking and silent admiration ; at length the 
excellency of her natural gifts, joined with the extreme shows she. 
made of most devout honouring Philoclea (carrying thus, in one 
person, the only two bands of goodwill, loveliness and lovingness) 
brought forth in her heart a yielding to a most friendly affection ; 
which when it had gotten so full possession of the keys of her 
mind that it would receive no message from her senses without 
that affection were the interpreter, then straight grew an exceeding 
delight still to be with her, with an unmeasurable liking of all that 
Zelmane did : matters being so turned in her, that where at first 
liking her manners did breed goodwill, now goodwill became 
the chief cause of liking her manners : so that within a while 
Zelmane was not prized for her demeanour, but the demeanour 
was prized because it was Zelmane's. Then followed that most 
natural effect of conforming herself to that which she did like, 
and not only wishing to be herself such another in all things 
but to ground an imitation upon so much an esteemed authority, 
so that the next degree was to mark all Zelmane's doings, speeches, 
and fashions, and to take them into herself as a pattern of worthy 
proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not only by the 
commonality of passions, but agreed unto by her most noble 
thoughts, and that reason itself, not yet experienced in the issues 
of such matters, had granted his royal assent, then friendship, 
a diligent officer, took care to see the statute thoroughly observed. 
Then grew on that not only she did imitate the soberness of her 
countenance, the gracefulness of her speech, but even their 
' particular gestures, so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she 
would often eye Zelmane ; and as Zelmane's eyes would deliver 
a submissive, but vehement desire in their look, she, though as yet 
she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answer in like 
piercing kindness of a look. Zelmane, as much as Gynecia's 
jealousy would suffer, desired to be near Philoclea ; Philoclea, as 
much as Gynecia's jealousy would suflfer, desired to be near 
Zelmane. If Zelmane took her hand, and softly strained it, she 
also, thinking the knots of friendship ought to be mutual, would, 
with a sweet fastness, show she was loth to part from it. And if 
Zelmane sighed, she should sigh also ; when Zelmane was sad, 
she deemed it wisdom, and therefore she would be sad toa 

142 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

Zelmane's languishing countenance with crossed arms, and some- 
times cast up eyes, she thought to have an excellent grace, and 
therefore she also willingly put on the same countenance, till at 
the last, poor soul, e'er she were aware, she accepted not only the 
badge, but the service ; not only the sign, but the passion signified. 
For whether it were that her wit in continuance did find that 
Zelmane's friendship was full of impatient desire, having more 
than ordinary limits, and therefore she was content to second 
Zelmane, though herself knew not the limits, or that in truth, true 
love, well considered, hath an infective power, at last she fell in 
acquaintance with love's harbinger, wishing ; first she would wish 
that they two might live all their lives together, like two of Diana's 
nymphs. But that wish she thought not sufficient, because she 
knew there would be more nymphs besides them, who also would 
have their part in Zelmane. Then would she wish that she were 
her sister, that such a natural band might make her more special 
to her, but against that, she considered, that, though being her 
sister, if she happened to be married she should be robbed of her. 
Then grown bolder she would wish either herself, or Zelmane, 
a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage between 
them. But when that wish had once displayed his ensign in her 
mind, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might 
be with a main battle of mislikings and repinings against their 
creation, that so it was not. Then dreams by night began to bring 
more unto her than she durst wish by day, whereout waking did 
make her know herself the better by the image of those fancies. 
But as some diseases when they are easy to be cured, they are 
hard to be known, but when they grow easy to be known, they 
are almost impossible to be cured, so the sweet Philoclea, while 
she might prevent it, she did not feel it, now she felt it, when 
it was past preventing ; like a river, no rampires being built against 
it, till already it have overflowed. For now indeed love pulled off 
his mask, and showed his face unto her, and told her plainly that - 
she was his prisoner. Then needed she no more paint her face 
with passions, for passions shone through her face ; then her rosy 
colour was often increased with extraordinary blushing, and so 
another time, perfect whiteness descended to a degree of paleness ; 
now hot, then cold, desiring she knew not what, nor how, if she 
knew what. Then her mind, though too late, by the smart was 
brought to think of the disease, and her own proof taught her to 
know her mother's mind, which, as no error gives so strong assault 
as that which comes armed in the authority of a parent, so 
greatly fortified her desires to see that her mother had the like 
desires. And the more jealous her mother was, the more she 
thought the jewel precious which was with so many locks guarded, 


But that prevailing so far, as to keep the two lovers fromjirivate 
conference, then began she to feel the sweetness of a lover's 
solitariness, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane 
were present, she might give passage to her thoughts, and so, as it 
were, utter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she 
was not only burned but smothered. As this night, that going 
from the one lodge to the other, by her mother's commandment, 
with doleful gestures and uncertain paces, she did willingly accept 
the time's offer to be a while alone : so that going a little aside 
into the wood, where many times before she had dehghted to 
walk, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set 
together, that, with the shade the moon gave through it, it might 
breed a fearful kind of devotion to look upon it : but true thoughts 
of love banished all vain fancy of superstitution. Full well she 
did both remember and like the place, for there had she often with 
their shade beguiled Phoebus of looking upon her : there had she 
enjoyed herself often, while she was mistress of herself and had 
no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses. 

But the principal cause that invited her remembrance was a 
goodly white marble stone that should seem had been dedicated in 
ancient time to the Sylvan gods, which she finding there a few 
days before Zelmane's coming, had written these words upon it as 
a testimony of her mind against the suspicion her captivity made 
her think she lived in. The writing was this. 

You living powers enclos'd in stately shrine 
Of growing trees : you rural Gods that wield 

Your scepters here, if to your ears divine 
A voice may come, which troubled soul dolh yield ; 
This vow receive, this vow, O Gods, maintain ; 
My virgin life no spotted thought shall stain. 

Thou purest stone ; whose pureness doth present 
My purest mind ; whose temper hard doth show 
My temper'd heart ; by thee my promise sent 
Unto myself let after-livers know, 
No fancy mine, nor others wrong suspect 
Make me, O virtuous, shame, thy laws neglect. 

O chastity, the chief of heavenly lights, 

Which mak'st us most immortal shape to wear. 
Hold thou my heart, establish thou my sprites : 
To only thee my constant course I bear ; 
'Till spotless soul unto thy bosom fly. 
3uch life to lead, such death I vow to die, 

144 ARCADIA [book ii. 

But now that her memory served as an accuser of her change, 
and that her own hand-writing was there to bear testimony against 
her fall ; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the tops 
together, that they might seem a little chapel : and there might 
she, by the help of the moon-light, perceive the goodly stone which 
served as an altar in that woody devotion. But neither the light 
was enough to read the words, and the ink was already foreworn, 
and in many places blotted, which as she perceived, " Alas ! " said 
she, " fair marble, which never received'st spot but by my writing : 
well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her 
which did not dissemble then, although she have changed since. 
Enjoy, enjoy the glory of thy nature, which can so constantly bear 
the marks of my inconstancy." And herewith, hiding her eyes 
with her soft hand, there came into her head certain verses, which 
if she had had present commodity, she would have adjoined as a 
retraction to the other. They were to this effect. 

My words, in hope to blaze a stedfast mind. 

This marble chose, as of like tempter known : 
But lo, my words defac'd my fancies blind, 
Blots to the stone, shames to myself I find : 
And witness am, how ill agree in one, 
A woman's hand with constant marble stone. 

My words full weak, the marble full of might ; 

My words in store, the marble all alone ; 
My words black ink, the marble kindly white ; 
My words unseen, the marble still in sight, 
May witness bear, how ill agree in one, 
A woman's hand with constant marble stone. 

But seeing she could not see means to join as then this recanta- 
tion to the former vow, laying all her fair length under one of the 
trees, for a while she did nothing but turn up and down, as if she 
had hoped to turn away the fancy that had mastered her, and hid 
her face, as if she could have hidden herself from her own fancies. 
At length with a whispering note to herself : " O me unfortunate 
wretch," said she, "what poisonous heats be these which thus 
torment me ? how hath the sight of this strange guest invaded my 
soul ? alas what entrance found this desire, or what strength had 
it thus to conquer me ? " Then a cloud passing between her sight 
and the moon, " O Diana," said she, " I would either the cloud 
that now hides the light of my virtue would as easily pass away as 
you will quickly overcome this let, or else that you were for ever 
thus darkened to serve for an excuse of my outrageous folly." Then 
looking to the stars, which had perfectly as then beautified the 


clear sky : " My parents," said she, " have told me that in those 
fair heavenly bodies there are great hidden dieties, which have 
their working in the ebbing and flowing of our estates. If it be so, 
then, O you stars ! judge rightly of me, and if I have with wicked 
intent made myself a prey to fancy, or if by any idle lusts I framed 
my heart fit for such an impression, then let this plague daily 
increase in me, till my name be made odious to womankind. But 
if extreme and unresistable violence have oppressed me, who will 
ever do any of you sacrifice, O you stars, if you do not succour me? 
No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you cannot help me : sin 
must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. 
And yet are these but childish objections, simple Philoclea, it is 
the impossibility that doth torment me : for, unlawful desires are 
punished after the effect of enjoying ; but impossible desires are 
punished in the desire itself. O then, O ten times unhappy that 
I am, since wherein all other hope kindleth love, in me despair 
should be the bellows of my affection : and of all despairs the most 
miserable, which is drawn from impossibility. The most covetous 
man longs not to get riches out of a ground which never can bear 
anything ; why ? because it is impossible. The most ambitious 
wight vexeth not his wits to climb into heaven ; why ? because it 
is impossible. Alas ! then, O love, why dost thou in thy beautiful 
sampler set such a work for my desire to take out, which is as 
much impossible? and yet alas ! why do I thus condemn my 
fortune before I hear what she can say for herself? what do I, 
silly wench, know what love hath prepared for me ? do I not think 
my mother, as well, at least as furiously as myself, love Zelmane ? 
and should I be wiser than my mother ? either she sees a possibility 
in that which I see impossible, or else impossible loves need not 
misbecome me. And do I not see Zelmane, who doth not think a 
thought which is not first weighed by wisdom and virtue, doth not 
she vouchsafe to love m.e with like order ? I see it, her eyes depose 
it to be true ; what then ? and if she ean love poor me, shall I 
think scorn to love such a woman as Zelmane? away then all vain 
examinations of why and how. Thou lovest me, most excellent 
Zelmane, and I love thee : " and with that, embracing the very 
ground whereon she lay, she said to herself, for even to herself she 
was ashamed to speak it out in words, " O my Zelmane govern 
and direct me, for I am wholly given over unto thee." 

In this depth of muses and divers sorts of discourses, would she 
ravingly have remained, but that Dametas and Mrso, who v?ere- 
round about to seek her, undeirstanding she wa^ come to their 
lodge that night, came hard by her ; Dametas saying that he 
would not deal in other bodies matters, but for his part he did not 
like that maids should once stir out of their father's Houses, but if it 


146 ARCADIA [book ii. 

were to milk a cow, or save a chicken from a kite's foot, or some 
such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it 
were her daughter Mopsa, she would give her a lesson for walking 
so late that should make her keep within doors for one fortnight. 
But their jangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though 
she had done it but to sport with them, went with them, after she 
had willed Miso to wait upon her mother to the lodge ; where, 
being now accustomed by her parent's discipline as well as her 
sister to serve herself, she went alone up to Pamela's chamber, 
where, meaning to delight her eyes, and joy her thoughts with the 
sweet conversation of her beloved sister, she found her, though it 
were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most 
willingly into mortal creatures, sitting in a chair, lying backward, 
with her head almost over the back of it, and looking upon a wax- 
candle which burnt before her ; in one hand holding a letter, in 
the other her handkerchief, which had lately drunk up the tears of 
her eyes, leaving instead of them crimson circles, like red flakes in 
the element when the weather is hottest ; which Philoclea finding, 
for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorrow, she 
earnestly entreated to know the cause thereof that either she might 
comfort, or accompany her doleful humour. But Pamela, rather 
seeming sorry that she had perceived so much, than willing to 
open any farther ; "O my Pamela," said Philoclea, "who are to 
me a sister in nature, a mother in counsel, a princess by the law of 
our country, and, which name methjnks of all other is the dearest, 
a friend by my choice and your favour, what means this banishing 
me from your counsels? do you love your sorrow so well as to 
grudge me part of it ? or do you think I shall not love a sad 
Pamela so well as a joyful ? or be my ears unworthy, or my tongue 
suspected ? What is it, my sister, that you should conceal from your 
sister, yea and servant Philoclea?" Those words won no farther 
of Pamela, but that telling her they might talk better as they lay 
together, they impoverished their clothes to enrich their bed, which 
for that night might well scorn the shrine of Venus : and their 
cherishing one another with dear, though chaste embracements, 
with sweet though cold kisses, it might seem that love was come 
to play him there without dart, or that^ weary of his own fires, he 
was there to refresh himself between their sweet breathing lips. 

But Philoclea earnestly again entreated Pamela to open her 
grief: who, drawing the curtain that the candle might not complain 
pf her blushing, was ready to speak : but the breath, almost formed 
into words, was again stopped by her and turned into sighs. But 
at last, "I pray you," said she, sweet Philoclea, "let us talk of 
■^ome otlier thing : and tell me whether you did ever see anything 
so amended as our pastoral sports be since that Dorus came 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 147 

hither?" O love, how far thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea 
had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more : " Indeed," 
said she, " I have often wondered to myself how such excellencies 
could be in so mean a person, but befike fortune was afraid to lay 
her treasures where they should be stained with so many perfec- 
tions, only I marvel how he can frame himself to hide so rare gifts 
under such a block as Dametas." "Ah," said Pamela, "if you 
ksiew the cause, but no more do I neither ; and to say the truth : 
but lord, how are we fallen to talk of this fellow ? and yet indeed 
if you were sometimes with me to mark him while Dametas reads 
his rustic lecture unto him how to feed his beasts before noon, 
where to shade them in the extreme heat, how to make the 
manger handsome for his oxen, when to use the goad, and 
when the voice ; giving him rules of a herdman, though he 
pretend to make him a shepherd, to see all the while with what a 
grace, which seems to set a crown upon his base estate, he can 
descend to those poor matters, certainly you would : but to what 
serves this ? no doubt we were better sleep than talk of those idle 
matters." " Ah my Pamela," said Philoclea, " I have caught you ; 
the constancy of your wit was not wont to bring forth such dis- 
jointed speeches : you love, dissemble no farther." " It is true,' 
said Pamela, " now you have it ; and with less ado should, if my 
heart could have thought those words suitable for my mouth. But 
indeed, my Philoclea, take heed: for I think virtue itself is no 
armour of proof against affection. Therefore learn by my 
example." Alas ! thought Philoclea to herself, your shears come 
too late to clip the bird's wings that already is flown away. But 
then Pamela, being once set in the stream of her love, went away 
amain, withal telling her how his noble qualities had drawn her 
liking towards him ; but yet ever weighing his meanness, and so 
held continually in due limits ; till seeking many means to speak 
with her, and ever kept from it, as well because she shunn'd it, 
seeing and disdaining his mind, as because of her jealous jailors, 
he had at length used the finest policy that might be in counter- 
feiting love to Mopsa, and saying to Mopsa whatsoever he would 
have her know; and in how passionate manner he had told his 
own tale in a third person, making poor Mopsa believe, that it was 
a matter fallen out many ages before. " And in the end, because 
you shall know my tears come not neither of repentance nor misery, 
who, think you, is my Dorus fallen out to be? even the Prince 
Musidorus, famous over all Asia for his heroical enterprises, of 
whom you remember how much good the stranger Plangus told 
my father; he not being drowned, as Plangus thought, though his 
cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard 
his words, or seen his gestures when he made me know what, and 

148 ARCADIA [book ii. 

to whom his love was, you would have matched in yourself those 
two rarely matched together, pity and delight. Tell me dear sister, 
for the gods are my witnesses I desire to do virtuously, can I 
without the detestable stain of ungratefulness abstain from loving 
him, who (far exceeding the beautifulness of his shape with the 
beautifulness of his mind, and the greatness of his estate with the 
greatness of his acts) is content so to abase himself, as to become 
Dametas's servant for my sake ? you will say, how know I him to 
be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdom is slow of belief? 
that consideration did not want in me; for the nature of desire 
itself is no easier to receive belief, than it is hard to ground belief. 
For as desire is glad to embrace the first show of comfort, so is 
desire desirous of perfect assurance, and that have I had of him, 
not only by necessary arguments to any of common sense, but by 
sufficient demonstrations. Lastly, he would have me send to 
Thessalia, but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honourable 
love so much wrong as so far to suspect him : yet poor soul, knows 
he no other, but that I do both suspect, neglect, yea, and detest 
him. For every day he finds one way or other to set forth himself 
unto me, but all are rewarded with like coldness of acceptation. 

" A few days since, he and Dametas had furnished themselves 
very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it 
was to see Dametas, like rich tissue furred with lamb-skins ? but 
O how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace he presented 
himself before me on horseback, making majesty wait upon 
humbleness? how at the first, standing still with his eyes bent 
upon me, as though his motions were chained to my look, he so 
stayed till I caused Mopsa bid him do something upon his horse : 
which no sooner said, but, with a kind rather of quick gesture 
than show of violence, you might see him come towards me, 
beating the ground in so due time that no dancer can observe 
better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once when the 
sea went high upon the coast of Argos, so went the beast. But 
he, as if centaur-like he had been one piece with the horse, was 
no more moved than one with the going of his own legs, and in 
effect so did he command him as his own limbs ; for tho' he had 
both spurs and wand, they seemed rather marks of sovereignty 
than instruments of punishment, his hand and leg, with most 
pleasing grace, commanding without threatening, and rather 
remembering than chastising ; at least if sometimes he did it was 
so stolen as neither our eyes could discern it nor the horse with 
any change did complain of it : he ever going so just with the 
horse, either forth-right or turning that it seemed he borrowed the 
horse's body, so he lent the horse his mind. In the turning one 
might perceive the bridle-hand sometliing gently stir : but indeed 


so gently that it did rather distil virtue than use violence. Him- 
self, which methinks is strange, showing at one instant both 
steadiness and nimbleness ; sometimes making him turn close to 
the ground, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheels about after a 
mouse ; sometimes with a little more rising before, now like a 
raven leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas's kids 
bound over the hillocks, and all so done, as neither the lusty kind 
showed any roughness, nor the easier any idleness ; but still like 
a well-obeyed master, whose beck is enough for a discipline, ever 
concluding each thing he did with his face to me-wards, as if 
thence came not only the beginning but endmg of his motions. 
The sport was to see Dametas, how he was tossed from the saddle 
to the mane of the horse, and thence to the ground, giving his gay 
apparel almost as foul an outside as it had an inside. But as 
before he had ever said, he wanted but horse and apparel to be as 
brave a courtier as the best, so now bruised with proof, he pro- 
claimed it a folly for a man of wisdom to put himself under the 
tuition of a beast, so as Dorus was fain alone to take the ring 
Wherein truly at least my womanish eyes could not discern, but 
that taking his staff from his thigh, the descending it a little down, 
the getting of it up into the rest, the letting of the point fall, and 
taking the ring, was but all one motion, at least, if they were divers 
motions, they did so stealingly slip one into another that the latter 
part was ever in hand before the eye could discern the former was 
ended. Indeed Dametas found fault that he showed no more 
strength in shaking of his staff, but to my conceit the fine cleanness 
of bearing it was exceeding delightful. 

" But how delightful soever it was, my delight might well be in 
my soul, but it never went to look out of the window to do him 
any comfort. But how much more I found reason to like him, the 
more I set all the strength of mine to suppress it, or at least to 
conceal it. Indeed I must confess, that as some physicians have 
told me, that when one is cold outwardly, he is not inwardly, so 
truly the cold ashes laid upon my fire did not take the nature of 
fire from it. Full often hath my breast swollen with keeping my 
sighs imprisoned ; full often have the tears I drove back from mine 
eyes, turned back to drown my heart. But alas ! what did that 
help poor Dorus? whose eyes, being his diligent intelligencers, 
could carry unto him no other news, but discomfortable. I think 
no day past but by some one invention he would appear unto me 
to testify his love. One time he danced the matachine dance in 
armour, O with what a graceful dexterity ! I think to make me see 
that he had been brought up in such exercises : another time he 
persuaded his master, to make my time seem shorter, in manner 
of a dialogue, to play Priamus, while he played Paris. Think, 


sweet Philoclea, what a Priamus we had : but truly, my Paris was 
a Paris, and more than a Paris : who, while in a savage apparel, 
with naked neck, arms, and legs, he made love to Oenone, you 
might well see by his changed countenance and true tears, that he 
felt the part he played. Tell me, sweet Philoclea, did you ever 
see such a shepherd ? tell me, did you ever hear of such a prince ? 
and then tell me if a small or unworthy assault have conquered 
me. Truly I would hate my life, if I thought vanity led me. But 
since my parents deal so cruelly with me, it is time for me to trust 
something to my own judgment. Yet hitherto have my looks been 
as I told you, which continuing after many of those his fruitless 
trials, have wrought such change in him as I tell you true," with 
that word she laid her hand upon her quaking side, " I do not a 
little fear him. See what a letter this is," then drew she the 
curtain, and took the letter from under her pillow, " which to-day, 
with an afflicted humbleness, he delivered me, pretending before 
Mopsa that I should read it unto her to mollify, forsooth, her iron 
stomach." With that she read the letter, containing thus much : 

Most blessed paper, which shall kiss that hand, whereto all blessed- 
ness is in nature a servant, do not yet disdain to carry with thee the 
woeful words of a miser now despairing : neither be afraid to appear 
before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shall 
that divine hand touch thee, but that thy baseness shall be turned 
to most high preferment. Therefore mourn boldly my ink ; for 
while she looks upon you, your blackness will shine : cry out boldly 
my lamentation ; for while she reads you, your cries will be music. 
Say then, O happy messenger of a most unhappy message, that the 
too soon born, and too late dying creature, which dares not speak, 
no not look, no not scarcely think, as from his miserable self, unto her 
heavenly highness, only presumes to desire thee, in the time that 
her eyes and voice do exalt thee, to say, and in this manner to say ; 
not from him, O no, that were not fit, but of him, thus much unto 
her sacred judgment : O you, the only honour to women, to men the 
only admiration, you that being armed by love, defy him that armed 
you, in this high estate wherein you have placed me, yet let me 
remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence • 
and let me remember him, who, since he is yours, how mean soever 
he be, it is reason you have an account of him. The wretch, yet 
your wretch, though with languishing steps, runs fast to his grave ; 
and will you suffer a temple, how poorly built soever, but yet a 
temple of your deity, to be razed ? but he dieth : it is most true, he 
dieth ; and he in whom you live, to obey you, dieth. Whereof 
though he plain, he doth not complain : for it is a harm, but no 
wrong, which he hath received. He dies, because in woeful 
language all his senses tell him, that such is your pleasure : since 
you will not that be live, alaSj alas, what followeth of the uiost ruined 


Dorus, but his end ? end then, evil destined Dorus, end ; and end 
thou woeful letter, end ; for it sufficeth her wisdom to know, that 
her heavenly will shall be accomplished. 

" O my Philoclea, is he a person to write those words ? and are 
those words lightly to be regarded ? but if you had seen when with 
trembling hand he had delivered it how he went away, as if he 
had been but the coffin that carried himself to his sepulchre. Two 
times, I must confess, I was about to take courtesy into mine eyes, 
but both times the former resolution stopped the entry of it, so 
that he departed without obtaining any farther kindness. But he 
was no sooner out of the door ; but that I looked to the door 
kindly, and truly the fear of him ever since hath put me into such 
perplexity, as now you found me." "Ah my Pamela," said 
Philoclea, "leave sorrow. The river of your tears will soon lose 
his fountain ; it is in your hand as well to stitch up his life again, 
as it was before to rent it." And so, though with self-grieved 
mind, she comforted her sister, till sleep came to bathe himself in 
Pamela's fair weeping eyes. 

Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, " O me,'' said 
she, " indeed the only subject of the destinies displeasure, whose 
greatest fortunateness is more unfortunate than my sister's greatest 
unfortunateness. Alas ! she weeps because she would be no 
sooner happy ; I weep, because I can never be happy ; her tears 
flow from pity, mine from being too far lower than the reach of 
pity : Yet do I not envy thee, dear Pamela, I do not envy thee, 
only I could wish that being thy sister in nature I were not so far 
off akin in fortune." 

But the darkness of sorrow overshadowing her mind, as the 
night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselves 
under the wings of sleep, till the next morning had almost lost his 
name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked from dreams, 
which flattered them with more comfort than their waking could, 
or would consent unto. For then they were called up by Miso, 
who, having been with Gynecia, had received commandment to be 
continually with her daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane 
and Philoclea have any private conference but that she should be 
present to hear what passed : Miso having now her authority 
increased, but came with scowling eyes to deliver a slavering good 
morrow to the two ladies, telling them it was a shame for them to 
mar their complexions, yea and conditions too, with long lying 
abed ; and that when she was of their age, she trowed, she would 
have made a handerchief by that time a-day. The two sweet 
princesses with a smiling silence answered her entertainment, and, 
obeying hex directionj covered their dainty beauties with the gla,d 

152 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

clothes. But as soon as Pamela was ready, and sooner she was 
than her sister, of the agony of Dorus's giving a fit to herself, 
which the words of his letter, lively imprinted in her mind, still 
remembered her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch 
Dorus to speak with her ; because, she said, she would take farther 
judgment of him before she would move Dametas to grant her in 
marriage unto him : Mopsa, as glad as of sweetmeat to go of such 
an errand, quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who intended 
both by speaking with him to give some comfort to his passionate 
heart, and withal to hear some part of his life past, which although 
fame had already delivered unto her, yet she desired in more 
particular certainties to have it from so beloved an historian. Let 
the sweetness of virtue's disposition, jealous, even over itself, 
suffered her not to enter abruptly into questions of Musidorus, 
whom see was half ashamed she did love so well, and more than 
half sorry she could love no better, but thought best first to make 
her talk arise of Pyrocles, and his virtuous father : which thus she 

" Dorus,'' said she, " you told me the last day that Plangus was 
deceived in that he affirmed the prince Musidorus was drowned, 
but, withal, you confessed his cousin Pyrocles perished, of whom 
certainly in that age there was a great loss, since, as I have heard, 
he was a young prince, of whom all men expected as much as 
man's power could bring forth, and yet virtue promised for him 
their expectation should not be deceived." " Most excellent lady," 
said Dorus, " no expectation in others, nor hope in himself could 
aspire to a higher mark than to be thought worthy to be praised 
by your judgment, and made worthy to be praised by your mouth. 
But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no means get so 
sweet and noble an air to fly in, as in your breath, so could not 
you, leaving yourself aside, find in the world a fitter subject of 
commendation ; as noble as a long succession of royal ancestors, 
famous and famous for victories, could make him ; of shape most 
lovely, and yet of mind more lovely, valiant, courteous, wise, what 
should I say more ? sweet Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can 
my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in 
some small measure thou had'st bequeathed to him that ever must 
have thy virtues in admiration, that, masked at least in them, I 
might have found some more gracious acceptation ? " With that 
he imprisoned his look for a while upon Mopsa, who thereupon 
fell into a very wide smiling. " Truly," said Pamela, " Dorus I like 
well your mind that can raise itself out of so base a fortune as 
yours is, to think of the imitating so excellent a prince as Pyrocles 
was. Who shoots at the mid-day sun, though he be sure he 
shall never hit the mark, )'et as sure he is, he shall shoot higher 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 153 

than who aims but at a bush. But I pray you, Dorus," said she, 
" tell me, since I perceive you are well acquainted with that story, 
what prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles, of whom so 
much fame goes, for his rightly royal virtues, or by what ways he 
got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sending 
first away from him, and then to him for that excellent son of his, 
with the discourse of his life and loss : and therein you may, if you 
list, say something of that same Musidorus his cousin, because 
they going together, the story of Pyrocles, which I only desire, 
may be the better understood." 

" Incomparable lady,'' said he, " your commandment doth not 
only give me the will, but the power to obey you ; such influence 
hath your excellency. And first, for that famous king Euarchus, 
he was, at this time you speak of, king of Macedon, a kingdom, 
which in older time had such a sovereignty over all the provinces 
of Greece that even the particular kings therein did acknowledge, 
with more or less degrees of homage, some kind of fealty there- 
unto : as among the rest, even this now most noble, and by you 
ennobled, kingdom of Arcadia. But he, when he came to his 
crown finding by his latter ancestors either negligence, or misfortune 
that in some ages many of those duties had been intermitted would 
never stir up old titles, how apparent soever, whereby the public 
peace, with the loss of many not guilty souls, should be broken ; 
but contenting himself to guide that ship, wherein the heavens had 
placed him, showed no less magnanimity in dangerless despising 
than others in dangerous affecting the multiplying of kingdoms : 
for the earth hath since borne enough bleeding witnesses that it 
was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see 
what was best, and most just in the performing what he saw, and 
temperate in abstaining from anything anyway contrary, so think 
I, no thought can imagine a greater heart to see and contemn 
danger, where danger would offer to make any wrongful threaten- 
ing upon him. A prince, that indeed especially measured his 
greatness by his goodness : and if for anything he loved greatness 
it was because therein he might exercise his goodness. A prince 
of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a grave majesty, where- 
with his mind did deck his outward graces ; strong of body, and 
so much the stronger, that he by a well disciplined exercise taught 
it both to do, and suffer. Of age so as he was above fifty years 
when his nephew Musidorus took on such shepherdish apparel for 
the love of the world's paragon, as I now wear. 

" This king left orphan both of father and mother, whose father 
and grandfather likewise had died young, he found his estate, 
when he came to the age which allowed his authority, so disjointed 
even in the noblest and strongest limbs of government that the 

154 ARCADIA [book n. 

name of a king was grown even odious to the people, his authority 
having been abused by those great lords and little kings, who in 
those between times of reigning, by unjust favouring those that 
were partially theirs, and oppressing them that would defend their 
liberty against them, had brought in, by a more felt than seen 
manner of proceeding, the worst kind of Oligarchy ; that is, when 
men are governed indeed by a few, and yet are not taught to know 
what those few be to whom they should obey. 

" For they having the power of kings, but not the nature of kings, 
used the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within 
a year they shall go out ; making the king's sword strike whom 
they hated, the king^s purse reward whom they loved ; and, which 
is worst of all, making the royal countenance serve to undermine 
the royal sovereignty. For the subjects could taste no sweeter . 
fruits of having a king than grievous taxation to serve vain 
purposes ; laws made rather to find faults than to prevent faults : 
the court of a prince rather deemed as a privileged place of the 
unbridled licentiousness than as the abiding of him, who as a 
father should give a fatherly example unto his people. Hence 
grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men, by the 
nature of ambition never satisfied, grew factious among themselves : 
and the underlings glad indeed to be underiings to them they 
hated least, to preserve them from such they hated most. Men of 
virtue suppressed, lest the shining should discover the others 
filthiness ; and at length virtue itself almost forgotten, when it had 
no hopeful end whereunto to be directed ; old men long nusled in 
corruption, scorning them that would seek reformation, young men 
were fault-finding, but very faulty, and so given to new-fangleness 
both of manners, apparel, and each thing else, by the custom of 
self-guilty evil, glad to change, though oft for worse ; merchandise 
abused, and so towns decayed for want of just and natural liberty ; 
offices even of judging souls, sold ; public defences neglected ; and 
in sum, left too long I trouble you, all awry, and, which wried it to 
the most wry course of all, wit abused, rather to feign reason why 
it should be amiss, than how it should be amended. 

"In this, and a much worse plight than it is fit to trouble your 
excellent ears withal, did the king Euarchus find his estate when 
he took upon him the regiment, which, by reason of the long stream 
of abuse, he was forced to establish by some even extreme severity, 
not so much for the very faults themselves, which he rather sought 
to prevent than to punish, as for the faulty ones, who, strong even 
in their faults, scorned his youth, and could not learn to digest that 
the man which they so long had used to mask their own appetites, 
should now be the reducer of them into order. But so soon as 
some few, but indeed notable examples, had thundered a duty into 


the subjects hearts, he soon showed, no baseness of suspicion, nor 
the basest baseness of envy, could any whit rule such a ruler. But 
then shined forth indeed all love among them, when an awful fear 
engendered by justice, did make that love most lovely : his first 
and principal care being to appear unto his people such as he 
would have them be, and to be such as he appeared ; making his 
life the example of his laws, and his laws as it were his axioms 
arising out of his deeds. So that within small time he won a 
singular love in his people, and ingraffed singular confidence. For 
how could they choose but love him, whom they found so truly to 
love them ? he even in reason disdaining, that they that have 
charge of beasts, should love their charge and care for them ; and 
that he that was to govern the most excellent creature, should not 
love so noble a charge. And, therefore, where most princes, 
seduced by flattery to build upon false grounds of government, 
make themselves, as it were, another thing from the people, and so 
count it gain what they get from them and, as it were two counter- 
ballances, that their estate goes highest when the people goes 
lowest, by a fallacy of argument thinking themselves most kings 
when the subject is most basely subjected, he contrariwise, 
virtuously and wisely acknowledging that he with his people made 
all but one politic body, wherof himself was the head, even so 
cared for them as he would for his own limbs, never restraining 
their liberty, without it stretched to licentiousness, nor pulling from 
them their goods, which they found were not employed to the 
purchase of a greater good ; but in all his actions showing a delight 
in their welfare, brought that to pass, that, while by force he took 
nothing, by their love he had all. In sum, peerless princess, I 
might as easily set down the whole art of government as to lay 
before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such sort 
he flourished in the sweet comfort of doing much good, when, by 
an occasion of leaving his country, he was forced to bring forth his 
virtue of magnanimity, as before he had done of justice. 

" He had only one sister, a lady, least I should too easily :all 
to partial praises of her, of whom it may be justly said, that she 
was no unfit branch to the noble stock whereof she was come. Her 
he had given in marriage to Dorilaus prince of Thessalia, not so 
much to make a friendship, as to confirm the friendship between 
their posterity, which between them, by the likeness of virtue, had 
been long before made : for certainly, Dorilaus could need no 
amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise." " Who hath not 
heard," said Pamela, " of the valiant, wise, and just Dorilaus, whose 
unripe death doth yet, so many years since, draw tears from 
virtuous eyes ; and indeed, my father is wont to speak of nothing 
with greater admiration, than of the notable friendship, a rare thing 

i$6 ARCADIA [BOOK ti. 

in princes, more rare between princes, that so holily was observed 
to the last of those two excellent men. But," said she, "go on I 
pray you." 

" Dorilaus," said he, " having married his sister, had his marriage 
in short time blest, for so are folk wont to say, how unhappy soever 
the children after grow, with a son, whom they named Musidorus, 
of whom I must needs first speak before I come to Pyrocles, 
because as he was born first, so upon his occasion grew, as I 
may say » accidentally, the other's birth. For scarcely was 
Musidorus made partaker of this oft-binding light, when there were 
found numbers of soothsayers who affirmed strange and incredible 
things should be performed by that child ; whether the heavens at 
that time lifted to play with ignorant mankind, or that flattery be 
so presumptuous as even at times to borrow the face of divinity. 
But certainly, so did the boldness of their affirmation accompany 
the greatness of what they did affirm, even descending to 
particularities, what kingdoms he should overcome, that the king 
of Phrygia, who over-superstitiously thought himself touched in 
the matter, sought by force to destroy the infant, to prevent his 
after expectations : because a skilful man, having compared his 
nativity with the child, so told him. Foolish man, either vainly 
fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering that if it were 
a work of the superior powers, the heavens at length are never 
children. But so he did, and by the aid of the kings of Lydia and 
Crete, joining together their armies, invaded Thessalia, and 
brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithful 
friend and brother Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that 
with some interchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a just 
war, the best child. Peace. In which time Euarchus made a cross 
marriage also with Dorilaus's sister, and shortly left her with child 
of the famous Pyrocles, driven to return to the defence of his own 
country, which in his absence, helped with some of the ill-contented 
nobility, the mighty king of Thrace, and his brother king of Panonia, 
had invaded. The success of those wars was too notable to be 
unknown to your ears, to which it seems all worthy fame hath glory 
to come unto. But there was Dorilaus, valiantly requiring his 
friend's help, in a great battle deprived of life, his obsequies being 
no more solemnized by the tears of his partakers than the blood of 
his enemies ; with so piercing a sorrow to the constant heart of 
Euarchus that the news of his son's birth could lighten his 
countenance with no show of comfort, although all the comfort 
that might be in a child, truth itself in him forthwith delivered. 
For what fortune only soothsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all 
men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles, both heavens and earth 
giving tokens of tiie coming forth of an heroical virtue. The 


senate house of the planets was at no time so set for the decreeing 
of perfection in a man, as at that time all folks skilful therein did 
acknowledge : only love was threatened, and promised to him, and 
so to his cousin, as both the tempest and haven of his best years. 
But as death may have prevented Pyrocles, so unworthiness must 
be the death of Musidorus. 

" But the mother of Pyrocles, shortly after her childbirth dying, 
was cause that Euarchus recommended the care of his only son to 
his sister, doing it the rather because the war continued in cruel 
heat, betwixt him and those ill neighbours of his. In which mean- 
time those young princes, the only comforters of that virtuous 
widow, grew on so that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest 
conceits : Musidorus, perchance because among his subjects, 
exceedingly beloved ; and by the good order of Euarchus, well 
performed by his sister, they were so brought up that all the 
sparks of virtue which nature had kindled in them were so blown 
to give forth their uttermost heat, that, justly it may be affirmed, 
they inflamed the affections of all that knew them. For almost 
before they could perfectly speak, they began to receive conceits 
not unworthy of the best speakers ; excellent devices being used, 
to make even their sports profitable ; images of battles and fortifica- 
tions being then delivered to their memory, which after, their 
stronger judgments might dispense, the delight of tales being con- 
verted to the knowledge of all the stories of worthy princes, both 
to move them to do nobly, and teach them how to do nobly ; the 
beauty of virtue still being set before their eyes, and that taught 
them with far more diligent care than grammatical rules, their 
bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffering, and 
their minds acquainted by degrees with dangers ; and in sum, all 
bent to the making up of princely minds ; no servile fear used 
towards them, nor any other violent restraint, but still as to princes : 
so that a habit of commanding was naturalized in them, and there- 
fore the farther from tyranny : nature having done so much for 
them in nothing, as that it made them lords of truth, whereon all 
the other goods were builded. 

"Among which nothing I so much delight to recount, as the 
memorable friendship that grew betwixt the two princes, such as 
made them more like than the likeness of all other virtues, and 
made them more near one to the other than the nearness of their 
blood could aspire unto ; which I think grew the faster, and the 
faster was tied between them by reason that Musidorus being 
older by three or four years, it was neither so great a difference in 
age as did take away the delight in society, and yet by the differ- 
ence there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions, 
till they had both past over the humour of such contentions. For 

1S8 ARCADIA [book n. 

Pyrocles bare reverence full of love to Musidorus, and Musidorus 
had a delight full of love in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had 
learned either for body or mind, would teach it to Pyrocles ; and 
Pyrocles was so glad to learn of none as of Musidorus : till 
Pyrocles, being come to sixteen years of age, he seemed so to 
over-run his age in growth, strength, and all things following it, 
that not Musidorus, no nor any man living, I think, could perform 
any action, either on horse, or foot, more strongly, or deliver that 
strength more nimbly, or become the delivery more gracefully, or 
employ all more virtuously. Which may well seem wonderful : 
but wonders are no wonders in a wonderful subject. 

"At which time, understanding that the king Euarchus, after 
so many years of war, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and 
almost Thrace, had now brought the conclusion of all to the siege 
of Byzantium, to the raising of which siege, great forces were 
made, they would needs fall to the practice of those virtues which 
they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus 
nobly yielding over her own affects to her children's good, for a 
mother she was in affect to them both, the rather that they might 
help her beloved brother, they break off all delays, which Musidorus 
for his part thought already had devoured too much of his good 
time, but that he had once granted a boon, before he knew what it 
was, to his dear friend Pyrocles, that he would never seek the 
adventures of arms until he might go with him, which having fast 
bound his heart, a true slave to faith, he had bid a tedious delay of 
following his own humour for his friend's sake, till now being both 
sent for by Euarchus, and finding Pyrocles able every way to go 
through with that kind of life, he was as desirous for his sake as 
for his own, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a navy, that 
they might go like themselves, and not only bring the comfort of 
their presence, but of their power, to their dear parent Euarchus, 
they recommended themselves to the sea, leaving the shore of 
Thessalia full of tears and vows, and were received thereon with 
so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned 
falsely to fawn on princes. The wind was like a servant, waiting 
behind them so just, that they might fill the sails as they lifted ; 
and the best sailors showing themselves less covetous of his 
liberality, so tempered it that they all kept together like a beautiful 
flock, which so well could obey their master's pipe : without some- 
times, to delight the princes' eyes, some two or three of them would 
strive, who could, either by the cunning of well spending the wind's 
breath, or by the advantageous building of their moving houses, 
leave their fellows behind them in the honour of speed : while the 
two princes had leisure to see the practice of that, which before 
they had learned by books : to consider the art of catching the 


wind prisoner, to no other end, but to run away with it ; to see 
how beauty and use can so well agree together, that of all the 
trinkets, wherewith they are attired, there is not one but serves to 
some necessary purpose. And, O lord ! to see the admirable 
power and noble effects of love, whereby the seeming insensible 
loadstone, with a secret beauty, holding the spirit of iron in it, can 
draw that hard-hearted thing unto it, and like a virtuous mistress, 
not only make it bow itself, but with it make it aspire to so high 
a love as of the heavenly poles, and thereby to bring forth the 
noblest deeds that the children of the earth can boast of. And so 
the princes delighting their conceits with confirming their know- 
ledge, seeing wherein the sea-discipline differed from land-service, 
they had for a day, and almost a whole night, as pleasing enter- 
tainment as the falsest heart could give to him he means worst to. 
" But by that the next morning began a little to make a gilded 
show of a good meaning, there arose even with the sun, a veil of 
dark clouds before his face, which, shortly, like ink poured into 
water, had blacked over all the face of heaven, preparing as it 
were a mournful stage for a tragedy to be played on. For forthwith 
the winds began to speak louder, and, as in a tumultuous kingdom, 
to think themselves fittest instruments of commandment ; and 
blowing whole storms of hail and rain upon them, they were 
sooner in danger, than they could almost bethink themselves of 
change. For then the traitorous sea began to swell in pride 
against the afflicted navy, under which, while the heaven favoured 
them, it had lain so calmly, making mountains of itself, over which 
the tossed and tottering ship should climb, to be straight carried 
down again to a pit of hellish darkness ; with such cruel blows 
against the sides of the ship that, which w,ay soever it went, was 
still in his malice, that there was left neither power to stay nor 
way to escape. And shortly had it so dissevered the loving 
company, which the day before had tarried together, that most of 
them never met again, but were swallowed up in his never satisfied 
mouth. Some indeed, as since was known, after long wandering, 
returned into Thessaha, others recovered Bizantium, and served 
Euarchus, in his war. But in the ship wherein the princes were, 
now left as much alone as proud lords be when fortune fails them, 
though they employed all industry to save themselves, yet what 
they did was rather for duty to nature than hope to escape so 
Ugly a darkness as if it would prevent the night's coming, usurped 
the day's right : which accompanied sometimes with thunders, 
always with horrible noises of the chafing winds, made the masters 
and pilots so astonished that they knew not how to direct, and if 
they knew, they could scarcely, when they directed, hear their own 
whistle. For the sea strove with the winds which should be louder, 

i6o ARCADIA [book u. 

and the shrouds of the ship, with a gastful noise to them that were 
in it, witnessed that their ruin was the wager of the others conten- 
tion, and the heaven roaring out thunders the more amazed them, 
as having those powers for enemies. Certainly there is no danger 
carries with it more horror than that which grows in those floating 
kingdoms. For that dwelling place is unnatural to mankind, and 
then the terribleness of the continual motion, the desolation of 
the far-being from comfort, the eye and the ear having ugly images 
ever before it, doth still vex the mind, even when it is best armed 
against it. But thus the day past, if that might be called day, 
while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storm 
that they thought it best with stricken sails to yield to be governed 
by it : the valiantest feeling inward dismayedness, and yet the 
fearfullest ashamed fully to show it, seeing that the princes, who 
were to part from the greatest fortunes, did in their countenances 
accuse no point of fear, but encouraging them to do what might 
be done, putting their hands to every most painful ofiSce, taught 
them at one instant to promise themselves the best, and yet to 
despise the worst. But so were they carried by the tyranny of the 
wind, and the treason of the sea all that night, which the older it 
was, the more way-ward it showed itself towards them : till the 
next morning, known to be a morning better by the hour-glass 
than by the day's clearness, having run fortune so blindly, as itself 
ever was painted, lest the conclusion should not answer to the rest 
of the play, they were driven upon a rock, which, hidden with 
those outrageous waves, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruel 
mind, till with an unbelieved violence, but to them that have tried 
it, the ship ran upon it, and seeming willinger to perish than to 
have her course stayed, redoubled her blows, till she had broken 
herself in pieces, and as it were, tearing out her own bowels to 
feed the seas greediness, lest nothing within it but despair of 
safety and expectation of a loathesome end. There was to be seen 
the divers manner of minds in distress : some sat upon the top of 
the poop weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them ; some 
one more able to abide death than fear of death, cut his own throat 
to prevent drowning ; some prayed : and there wanted not of them 
which cursed, as if the heavens could not be more angry than they 
were. But a monstrous cry begotten of many roaring voices, was 
able to infect with fear a mind that had not prevented it with the 
power of reason. 

" But the princes, using the passions of fearing evil, and desiring 
to escape only to serve the rule of virtue, not to abandon one's self, 
leaped to a rib of the ship, which broken from his fellows, floated 
with more likelihood to do service than any other limb of that 
ruinous body ; upon which they had gotten already two brethren 


well known servants of theirs ; and straight they four were carried 
out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the 
ship. But the piece they were on sinking by little and little under 
them, not able to support the weight of so many, the brethren, the 
elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nelsus, showed them- 
selves right faithful and grateful servants unto them : grateful, I 
say, for this cause : those two gentlemen had been taken prisoners 
in the great war the king of Phrygia made upon Thessalia, in the 
time of Musidorus's infancy, and having been sold into another 
country, though peace fell after between those realms, could not 
be delivered because of their valour known, but for a far greater 
sum than either all their friends were able, or the dowager willing 
to make, in respect of the great expenses herself and people had 
been put to in those wars, and so had they remained in prison 
about thirteen years, when the two young princes, hearing speeches 
of their good deserts, found means both by selling all the jewels 
they had of a great price, and by giving under their hands great 
estates when they should come to be kings, which promises their 
virtue promised for them should be kept, to get so much treasure 
as redeemed them from captivity. This remembered, and kindly 
remembered by those two brothers, perchance helped by a natural 
duty to their princes' blood, they willingly left hold of the board, 
committing themselves to the sea's rage, and even when they 
meant to die, themselves praying for the princes' lives. It is true, 
that neither the pain nor danger, so moved the princes' hearts as 
the tenderness of that loving part, far from glory, having so few 
lookers on ; far from hope of reward, since themselves were sure 
to perish. 

" But now of all the royal navy they lately had, they had left but 
one little piece of one ship, whereon they kept themselves, in all 
truth having interchanged their cares, while either cared for other, 
each comforting and counselling how to labour for the better, and 
to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carried by 
the tide which there, seconded by the storm, ran exceeding swiftly, 
Musidorus seeing, as he thought, Pyrocles not well upon the 
board, as he would with his right hand have helped him on better, 
he had no sooner unfastened his hold but that a wave forcibly 
spoiled his weaker hand of hold, and so for a lime parted those 
friends, each crying to the other ; but the noise of the sea drowned 
their farewell. But Pyrocles, then careless of death, if it had come 
by any means but his own, was shortly brought out of the sea's 
fury to the land's comfort, when in my conscience I know that 
comfort was but bitter unto him : and bitter indeed it fell out even 
in itself to be unto him. 

"For being cast on land much bruised and beaten both with the 


i62 ARCADIA [book ii. 

sea's hard farewell, and the shore's rude welcome ; and even almost 
deadly tired with. the length of his uncomfortable labour, as he was 
walking up to discover somebody, to whom he might go for relief, 
there came straight running unto him certain, who, as it was after 
known, by appointment watched, with many others, in divers 
places along the coast, who laid hands on him, and without either 
questioning with him, or showing will to hear him, like men fearful 
to appear curious, or which was worse, having no regard to the 
hard plight he was in, being so wet and weak, they carried him 
some miles thence to a house of a principal officer of that country. 
Who with no more civility (though with much more business than 
those under fellows had showed) began in captious manner to put 
interrogatories unto him. To which, he unused to such entertain- 
ment, did shortly and plainly answer, what he was and how he 
came thither. But that no sooner known, with numbers of armed 
men to guard him (for mischief, not from mischief) he was sent to 
the king's court, which as then was not above a day's journey off, 
with letters from that officer, containing his own serviceable 
diligence in discovering so great a personage, adding withal more 
than was-true of his conjectures, because he would endear his own 

" This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the 
king thereof to whom he was sent, a prince of a melancholy con- 
stitution both of body and mind ; wickedly sad, ever musing of 
horrible matters, suspecting, or rather condemning all men of evil, 
because his mind had no eye to spy goodness : and therefore 
accusing Sycophants, of all men, did best sort to his nature ; but 
therefore not seeming Sycophants, because of no evil they said, 
they could bring any new or doubtful thing unto him, but such as 
already he had been apt to determinine, so as they came but as 
proofs of his wisdom : fearful, and never secure, while the fear he 
had figured in his own mind had any possibility of event. A toad- 
like retiredness, and closeness of mind ; nature teaching the 
odiousness of poison, and the danger of odiousness. Yet while 
youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour, 
not yet fully discovered, made him something the more frequent- 
able, and less dangerous. But after that years began to come on 
with some, though more seldom, shows of a bloody nature, and 
that the prophecy of Musidorus's destiny came to his ears (delivered 
unto him, and received of him with the hardest interpretation, as 
though his subjects did delight in the hearing thereof). Then 
gave he himself indeed to the full current of his disposition, 
especially after the war of Thessalia, wherein, though in truth 
, rongly, he deemed his unsuccess proceeded of their unwillingness 
to have him prosper; and then thinking himself contemned 


(knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to 
let nothing pass which might bear the colour of a fault without 
sharp punishment : and when he wanted faults, excellency grew 
a fault ! and it was sufficient to make one guilty, that he had power 
to be guilty. And as there is no humour, to which impudent 
poverty cannot make itself serviceable, so were there enough of 
those of desperate ambition, who would build their houses upon 
other's ruins, which after should fall by like practices. So as a 
servitude came mainly upon that poor people, whose deeds were 
not only punished, but words corrected, and even thoughts by. 
some mean or other pulled out of them ; while suspicion bred the 
mind of cruelty, and the effects of cruelty stirred up a new cause 
of suspicion. And in this pUght, full of watchful fearfulness, did 
the storm deliver sweet Pyrocles to the stormy mind of that tyrant ; 
all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger, whose counten- 
ance deserved both pity and admiration, condemning themselves 
as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their faces. 

"But when this bloody king knew what he was, and in what 
order he and his cousin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were 
come out of TheSsalia, assuredly thinking, because ever thinking 
the worst, that those forces were provided against him ; glad of 
the perishing, as he thought, of Musidorus, determined in public 
sort to put Pyrocles to death. For having quite lost the way of 
nobleness, he strove to climb to the height of terribleness ; and 
thinking to make all men a dread, to make such one an enemy 
who would not spare, not fear to kill so great a prince ; and lastly, 
having nothing in him why to make him his friend, he thought he 
would take him away from being his enemy. The day was 
appointed, and all things prepared for that cruel blow, in so 
solemn an order, as if they would set forth tyranny in most 
gorgeous decking. The princely youth, of invincible valour, yet 
so unjustly subjected to such outrageous wrong, carryjng himself 
in all his demeanour, so constantly abiding extremity, that one 
might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the 
world, and destroying virtue in his sweetest growth. 

"But so it fell out, that his death was prevented by a rare 
example of friendship in Musidorus, who, being almost drowned, 
had been taken up by a fisherman belonging to the kingdom of 
Bithinia : and being there, and understanding the full discourse 
(as fame was very prodigal of so notable an accident) in what case 
Pyrocles was : learning withal that his hate was far more to him 
than to Pyrocles, he found means to acquaint himself with a noble- 
man of that country, to whom largely discovering what he was, he 
found him a most fit instrument to effectuate his desire. For this 
nobleman had been one, who in many wars had served Euarchus, 

i64 ARCADIA ibook n. 

and had been so mind-stricken by the beauty of virtue in that noble 
king that, though not born his subject, he ever professed himself 
his servant. His desire therefore to him was to keep Musidorus 
in a strong castle of his, and then to make the king of Phrygia 
understand, that if he would deliver Pyrocles, Musidorus would 
willingly put himself into his hands, knowing well, that how thirsty 
soever he was of Pyrocles's blood, he would rather drink that of 

" The nobleman was loth to preserve one by the loss of another, 
but time urging resolution, the importunity of Musidorus, which 
showed a mind not to over-live Pyrocles, with the affection he bare 
to Euarchus, so prevailed, that he carried this strange offer of 
Musidorus, which by the tyrant was greedily accepted. 

■' And so upon security of both sides, they were interchanged : 
where I may not omit the work of friendship in Pyrocles, who both 
in speech and countenance to Musidorus, well showed that he 
thought himself injured and not relieved by him ; asking him what 
he had ever seen in him, why he could not bear the extremities of 
mortal accidents as well as any man ? and why he should envy him 
the glory of suffering death for his friend's cause, and, as it were, 
rob him of his own possession? but in that notable contention 
(where the conquest must be the conqueror's destruction, and 
safety the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus prevailed 
because he was a more welcome prey to the unjust king ; and a 
cheerfully going towards, as Pyrocles went frowardly fromward his 
death, he was delivered to the king, who could not be enough sure 
of him, without he fed his own eyes upon one whom he had begun 
to fear, as soon as the other began to be. 

" Yet because he would in one act both make ostentation of his 
his own felicity, into whose hands his most feared enemy was 
fallen, and withal cut off such hopes from his suspected subjects, 
when they should know certainly he was dead, with much more 
skilful cruelty, and horrible solemnity he caused each thing to be 
prepared for his triumph of tyranny. And so the day being come, 
he was led forth by many armed men who often had been the 
fortifiers of wickedness, to the place of execution, where coming 
with a mind comforted in that he had done such service to Pyrocles, 
this strange encounter he had. 

" The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner delivered by the king's 
servants to a place of liberty than he bent his wit and courage, 
and what would they not bring to pass? how either to deliver 
Musidorus, or to perish with him. And finding he could get in 
that country no forces sufficient by force to rescue him to bring 
himself to die with him, little hoping of better event, he put himself 
in poor raiment, and by the help of some few crowns he took of 


that nobleman, who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secret 
of his intent, suffered him to go in such order from him, he, even 
he, born to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest blood that 
any prince might be, submitted himself to be servant to the execu- 
tioner that should put to death Musidorus : a far notabler proof of 
his friendship, considering the height of his mind, than any death 
could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being arrayed fit 
for such an estate, and having his beauty hidden by many foul 
spots he artifically put upon his face, gave him leave not only to 
wear a sword himself, but to bear his sword prepared for the 
justified murder. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus 
was upon the scaffold, separated somewhat from the rest, as 
allowed to say something, he stepped unto him, and putting the 
sword into his hand, not bound, a point of civility the officers used 
towards him because they doubted no such enterprise, ' Musidorus,' 
said he, ' die nobly.' In truth never man between joy before 
knowledge what to be glad of, and fear after considering his case, 
had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw Pyrocles 
so near me." But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled, 
and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more 
smiled at his blushing, because he had, with the remembrance of 
that plight he was in, forgotten in speaking of himself to use the 
third person. 

But Musidorus turned again her thoughts from his cheeks to his 
tongue in this sort : " But," said he, " when they were with swords 
in hands, not turning backs one to the other, for there they knew 
was no place of defence, but making it a preservation in not hoping 
to be preserved, and now acknowledging themselves subject to 
death, meaning only to do honour to their princely birth, they 
flew amongst them all, for all were enemies, and had quickly 
either with flight or death, left none upon the scaffold to annoy 
them, wherein Pyrocles, the excellent Pyrocles, did such wonders 
beyond belief, as was able to lead Musidorus to courage, though 
he had been born a coward. But indeed just rage and desperate 
virtue did such effects, that the popular sort of the beholders began 
to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effects beyond mortal 
power. But the king with angry threatenings from out a window, 
where he was not ashamed the world should behold him a beholder, 
commanded his guard and the rest of his soldiers to hasten their 
death. But many of them lost their bodies to lose their souls, 
when the princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be 
conquered with conquering. 

"But as they were still fighting with weak arms and strong 
hearts, it happened that one of the soldiers, commanded to go up 
after his fellows against the princes, having received a light hurt, 

1 66 ARCADIA [book n. 

more wounded in his heart, went back with as much diligence as 
he came up with modesty : which another of his fellows seeing, to 
pick a thank of the king, struck him upon the face, reviling him 
that so accompanied, he would run away from so few. But he, as 
many times it falls out, only valiant, when he was angry, in revenge 
thrust him through ; which with his death was straight revenged 
by a brother of his, and that again requited by a fellow of the 
others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the soldiers ; 
which seen, and not understood by the people, used to fears, but 
not used to be bold in them, some began to cry treason ; and that 
voice straight multiplying itself, the king, O the cowardice of a 
guilty conscience, before any man set upon him, fled away. Where 
with a bruit, either by art or some well-meaning men, or by some 
chance, as such things often fall out by, ran from one to the other 
that the king was slain: wherewith certain young men of the 
bravest minds, cried with a loud voice, Liberty, and encouraging 
the other citizens to follow them, set upon the guard and soldiers 
as chief instruments of tyranny : and quickly aided by the princes, 
they had left none of them alive, nor any other in the city, who 
they thought had in any sort set his hand to the work of their 
servitude, and, god knows, by the blindness of rage, killing many 
guiltless persons, either for affinity to the tyrant, or enmity to the 
tyrant-killers. But some of the wiser, seeing that a popular license 
is indeed the many-headed tyranny, prevailed with the rest to 
make Musidorus their chief: choosing one of them, because princes, 
to defend them ; and him, because elder and most hated of the 
tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom forthwith they lifted up, 
fortune, I think smiling at her work therein, that a scaffold of 
execution should grow to a scaffold of coronation. 

" But by and by there came news of more certain truth, that the 
king was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his near hand, 
where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppress 
this mutiny. But now they had run themselves too far out of 
breath, to go back again to the same career ; and too well they 
knew the sharpness of his memory to forget such an injury ; there- 
fore learning virtue of necessity, they continued resolute to obey 
Musidorus, who seeing what forces were in the city, with them 
issued against the tyrant, while they were in this heat, before 
practices might be used to deliver them, and with them met the 
king, who likewise hoping little to prevail by time, knowing and 
finding his people's hate, met him with little delay in the field 
where himself was slain by Musidorus, after he had seen his only 
son, a prince of great courage and beauty, but fostered up in blood 
by his naughty father, slain by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory 
pbtained with g^reat and truly not undeserved honour to the two 


princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gave 
the crown and all other marks of sovereignty to Musidorus, 
desiring nothing more than to live under such a government as 
they promised themselves of him. 

" But he, thinking it a greater greatness to give a kingdom, than 
get a kingdom, understanding that there was left of the blood 
royal, and next to the succession, an aged gentleman of approved 
goodness, who had gotten nothing by his cousin's power but danger 
from him, and odiousness for him, having passed his time in modest 
secrecy, and as much from intermeddling in matters of govern- 
ment, as the greatness of his blood would suffer him, did, after 
having received the full power to his own hand, resign all to the 
nobleman ; but with such conditions, and cautions of the conditions, 
as might assure the people, with as much assurance as worldly 
matters bear, that not only that governor, of whom indeed they 
looked for of good, but the nature of the government, should be no 
way apt to decline to tyranny. 

" This doing set forth no less the magnificence than the other 
act did his magnanimity ; so that greatly praised of all, and justly 
beloved of the new king, who in all both words and behaviour 
protested himself their tenant and liegeman, they were drawn 
thence to revenge those two servants of theirs, of whose memor- 
able faith, I told you, most excellent princess, in willingly giving 
themselves to be drowned for their sakes : but drowned indeed 
they were not, but got with painful swimming upon a rock, from 
whence, after being come as near famishing as before drowning, 
the weather breaking up, they were brought to the mainland of 
Bithinia, the same country upon which Musidorus also was fallen, 
but not in so lucky a place. 

" For they were brought to the king of the country, a tyrant also 
not through suspicion, greediness or revengefulness, as he of 
Phrygia, but, as I may term it, of a wanton cruelty : inconstant in 
his choice of friends, or rather never having a friend but a play- 
fellow ; of whom when he was weary, he could not otherwise rid 
himself than by killing them ; giving sometimes prodigally, not 
because he loved them to whom he gave, but because he lusted to 
give ; punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he 
felt not the smart of punishment ; dehghted to be flattered, at first 
for those virtues which were not in him, at length making his vices 
virtues worthy the flattering ; with like judgment glorying, when 
he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed 
some notable mischief. 

" He chanced at that time, for indeed long time none lasted with 
him, to have next in use about him a man of the most envious 
disposition that, I thinkj ever infected the air with his breath ; 

l68 ARCADIA [book ii. 

whose eyes could not look right upon any happy man, nor ears 
bear the burden of anybody's praise ; contrary to the natures of all 
other plagues, plagued with others well being ; making happiness 
the ground of his unhappiness, and good news the argument of his 
sorrow : in sum, a man whose favour no man could win, but by 
being miserable. And so because those two faithful servants of 
theirs came in miserable sort to that court, he was apt enough at 
first to favour them ; and the king understanding of their adventure, 
wherein they had showed so constant a faith unto their lords, 
suddenly falls to take a pride in making much of them, extolling 
them with infinite praises, and praising himself in his heart, in that 
he praised them. And by and by where they made great courtiers, 
and in the way of minions, when advancement, the most mortal 
offence to envy, stirred up their former friend to overthrow his own 
work in them ; taking occasion upon the knowledge, newly come 
to the court, of the late death of the king of Phrygia destroyed by 
their two lords, who having been a near kinsman to this prince of 
Pontus, by this envious counsellor, partly with suspicion of practicei 
partly with glory of, in part, revenging his cousin's death, the king 
was suddenly turned, and every turn with him was a down-fall, to 
lock them up in prison, as servants to his enemies, whom before 
he had never known, nor, till that time one of his own subjects had 
entertained and dealt for them, did ever take heed of. But now 
earnest in every present humour, and making himself brave in his 
liking, he was content to give them just cause of offence, when 
they had power to make just revenge. Yet did the princes send 
unto him before they entered into war, desiring their servants' 
liberty. But he, swelling in their humbleness Uke a bubble blown 
up with a small breath broken with a great, forgetting, or never 
knowing humanity, caused their heads to be stricken off, by the 
advice of his envious counsellor, who now hated them so much the 
more, as he foresaw their happiness in having such, and so fortunate 
masters, and sent them with unroyal reproaches to Musidorus and 
Pyrocles, as if they had done traitorously, and not heroically in 
killing his tyrannical cousin. 

" But that injury went beyond all degree of reconcilement, so 
that they making forces in Phrygia, a kingdom wholly at their 
commandment, by the love of the people, and gratefulness of the 
king, they entered his country ; and wholly conquering it, with 
such deeds as at least fame said were excellent, took the king, and 
by Musidorus's commandment, Pyrocles's heart more inclining to 
pity, he was slain upon the tomb of their two true servants ; which 
they caused to be made for them with royal expenses, and notable 
workmanship to preserve their dead lives. For his wicked servant 
he sliDuld have felt the like, or worse, but that his heart broke 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 169 

even to death with the beholding the honour done to their dead 
carcasses. There might Pyrocles quietly have enjoyed that crown, 
by all the desire of that people, most of whom had revolted unto 
him, but he finding a sister of the late king's, a fair and well 
esteemed lady, looking for nothing more, than to be oppressed, 
with her brother's ruins, gave her in marriage to the nobleman his 
fathei-'s old friend, and endowed with them the crown of that 
kingdom. And not content with those public actions of princely, 
and as it were, governing virtue, they did, in that kingdom and 
some other near about, divers acts of particular trials, more famous 
because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full 
both of cruel monsters, and monstrous men, all which in short time 
by private combats they delivered the countries of. 

" Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatness and force, 
therefore commonly called giants, who kept themselves in a castle 
seated upon the top of a rock, impregnable, because there was no 
coming unto it but by one narrow path where one man's force was 
able to keep down an army. Those brothers had a while served 
the king of Pontus, and in all his affairs, especially of war, where- 
unto they were only apt, they had showed, as unconquered courage, 
so a rude faithfulness : being men indeed by nature apter to the 
faults of rage than of deceit ; not greatly ambitious, more than to 
be well and uprightly dealt with ; rather impatient of injury, than 
delighted with more than ordinary courtesies ; and in injuries 
more sensible of smart or loss than of reproach or disgrace. Those 
men being of this nature, and certainly jewels to a wise man, 
considering what indeed wonders they were able to perform, yet 
were discarded by that worthy prince, after many notable deserts, 
as not worthy the holding, which was the more evident to them 
because it suddenly fell from an excess of favour, which, many 
examples having taught them, never stopped his race till it came 
to an headlong overthrow : they full of rage, retired theifl selves 
unto this castle : where thinking nothing juster than revenge, nor 
more notable than the effects of anger, that, according to the 
nature, full of inward bravery and fierceness, scarcely in the glass 
of reason, thinking itself fair but when it is terrible, they immediately 
gave themselves to make all the country about them subject to that 
king, to smart for their lord's folly, not caring how innocent they 
were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it 
testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with use 
of evil, growing more and more evil, they took delight in slaughter, 
and pleased themselves in making others wrack the effect of their 
power : so that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their 
anger was a serviceable power of the mind to do public good, so 
now unbridled, and blind judge of itself, it made wickedness 

I70 ARCADIA [book n. 

violent, and praised itself in excellency of mischief, almost to the 
ruin of the country, not greatly regarded by their careless and 
loveless king. Till now those princes finding them so fleshed in 
cruelty as not to be reclaimed, secretly undertook the matter alone : 
for accompanied they would not have suffered them to have 
mounted ; and so those great fellows scornfully receiving them, as 
foolish birds fallen into their net, it pleased the eternal justice to 
make them suffer death by their hands : and so they were 
manifoldly acknowledged the savers of that country. 

" It were the part of a very idle orator to set forth the numbers 
of well-devised honours done unto them, but as high honour is not 
only gotten and born by pain and danger, but must be nursed by 
the like, or else vanisheth as soon as it appears to the world, so 
the natural hunger thereof, which was in Pyrocles suffered him not 
to account a resting seat of that, which either riseth or falleth, but 
still to make one occasion beget another, whereby his doings 
might send his praise to others mouths to rebound again true 
contentment to his spirit. And therefore having well established 
those kingdoms under good governors, and rid them by their 
valour of such giants and monsters, as before-time armies were not 
able to subdue, they determined in unknown order to see more of 
the world, and to employ those gifts, esteemed rare in them, to the 
good of mankind ; and therefore would themselves, understanding 
that the king Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his war, go 
privately to seek exercises of their virtue, thinking it not so worthy 
to be brought to heroical effects by fortune or necessity, like 
Ulysses and .<Eneas, as by one's own choice and working. And 
so went they away from very unwilling people to leave them, 
making time haste itself to be a circumstance of their honour, and 
one place witness to another of the truth of their doings. For 
scarcely were they out of the confines of Pontus, but that as they 
rode alone armed, for alone they went, one serving the other, they 
met an adventure, which though not so notable for any great effect 
they performed, yet worthy to be remembered for the unused 
examples therein, as well of true natural goodness as of wretched 

"It was in the kingdom of Galatia, the season being, as in the 
depth of winter, very cold and as then suddenly grown to so 
extreme and foul a storm, that never any winter, I think, brought 
forth a fouler child : so that the princes were even compelled by 
the hail, that the pride of the wind blew into their faces, to seek 
some shrouding place, which a certain hollow rock offering unto 
them, they made it their shield against the tempest's fury. And 
so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard 
the speech of a couple, who not perceiving them, beings hid witliin 


that rude canopy, held a strange and pitiful disputation, which 
made them step out, yet in such sort as they might see unseen. 
There they perceived an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to 
the age of a man, both poorly arrayed, extremely weather-beaten ; 
the old man Mnd, and the young man leading him ; and yet 
through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appear a kind 
of nobleness, not suitable to that affliction. But the first words 
they heard, were those of the old man. ' Well Leonatus,' said he, 
' since I cannot persuade thee to lead me to that which should end 
my grief and my trouble, let me now entreat thee to leave me : 
fear not, my misery cannot be greater than it is, and nothing doth 
become me but misery : fear not the danger of my blind steps, I 
cannot fall worse than I am : and do not I pray thee, do not 
obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchedness : but fly, 
fly from this region only worthy of me.' ' Dear father,' answered 
he, ' do not take away from me the only remnant of my happiness : 
while I have power to do you service, I am not wholly miserable.' 
' Ah my son,' said he, and with that he groaned, as if sorrow strove 
to break his heart, ' how evil fits it me to have such a son ? and 
how much doth thy kindness upbraid my wickedness?' Those 
doleful speeches, and some others to like purpose, well showing 
they had not been born to the fortune they were in, moved the 
princes to go out unto them, and ask the younger what they were ? 
' Sirs,' answered he with a good grace, and made the more agree- 
able by a certain noble kind of piteousness, ' I see well you are 
strangers that know not our misery, so well here known that no 
man dare know but that we must be miserable. Indeed our state 
is such, as though nothing is so needful unto us as pity, yet nothing 
is more dangerous unto us than to make ourselves so known as 
may stir pity : but your presence promiseth that cruelly shall not 
, over-run hate, and if it did, in truth our state is sunk below the 
degree of fear. 

" ' This old man, whom I lead, was lately rightful prince of this 
country of Paphlagonia, by the hard-hearted ungratefulness of 
a son of hisj deprived not only of his kingdom, whereof no foreign 
forces were ever able to spoil him, but of his sight, the riches 
which nature grants to the poorest creatures : whereby and by 
other his unnatural deahngs, he hath been driven to such griefs, 
as even now he would have had me to have led him to the top of 
this rock, thence to cast himself headlong to death, and so would 
have had me, who received my life of him, to be the worker 
of his destruction. But noble gentlemen,' said he, ' if either of you 
have a father, and feel what dutiful affection is ingrafted in a son's 
heart, let me entreat you to convey this afflicted prince to some 
place pf rest and security : amongst your worthy acts it shall be 


none of the least, that a king of such might and fame, and so 
unjustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved.' 

" But before they could make him answer, his father began to 
speak. 'Ah my son,' said he, 'how evil an historian are you 
that leave out the chief knot of all the discourse ? my wickedness, 
my wickedness ! and if thou dost it to spare my ears, the only 
sense now left me proper for knowledge, assure thyself thou dost 
mistake me : and I take witness of that sun which you see,' with 
that he cast up his blind eyes as if he would hunt for light, ' and 
wish myself in worse case than I do wish myself, which is as evil 
as may be, if I speak untruly, that nothing is so welcome to my 
thoughts as the pubUshing of my shame. Therefore know, you 
gentlemen (to whom from my heart I wish that it may not prove 
some ominous foretoken of misfortune to have met vidth such 
a miser as I am) that whatsoever my son, O God, that truth binds 
me to reproach him with the name of my son, hath said is true. 
But besides those truths, this also is true, that having had, in 
lawful marriage, of a mother fit to bear royal children, this son, 
such a one as partly you see, and better shall know by my short 
declaration, and so enjoyed the expectations in the world of him, 
till he was grown to justify their expectations, so as I needed envy 
no farther for the chief comfort of mortality, to leave another 
one's-self after me, I was carried by a bastard son of mine, if at 
least I be bound to believe the- words of that base woman my 
concubine, his mother, first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to 
destroy, or to do my best to destroy this son, I think you think, 
undeserving destruction. What ways she used to bring me to it, 
if I should tell you, I should tediously trouble you with as much 
poisonous hypocrisy, desperate fraud, smooth malice, hidden 
ambition, and smiling envy, as in any living person could be 
harboured : but I list it not ; no remembrance of naughtiness 
delights me but mine own ; and methinks, the accusing his traps 
might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainly I loath to 
do. But the conclusion is, that I gave order to some servants 
of mine, whom I thought as apt for such charities as myself, to 
lead him out into a forest, and there to kill him. 

" ' But those thieves, better natured to my son than myself, spared 
his life, letting him go to learn to live poorly which he did, giving 
himself to be a private soldier in a country hereby ; but as he was 
ready to be greatly advanced for some noble pieces of service 
which he did, he heard news of me, who drunk in my affection 
to that unlawful and unnatural son of mine, suffered myself to be 
governed by him, that all favours and punishments passed by him, 
all offices and places of importance distributed to his favourities ; 
so that, ere I was aware, I had left myself nothing but the name 


01' a king, which he shortly weary of too, with many indignities 
if anything may be called an indignity which was laid upon me, 
threw me out of my seat, and put out my eyes, and then, proud 
in his tyranny, let me go, neither imprisoning, nor killing me, 
but rather delighting to make me feel my misery ; misery indeed, 
if ever there were any ; full of wretchedness, fuller of disgrace, and 
fullest of guiltiness. And as he came to the crown by so unjust 
means, as unjustly he kept it, by force of stronger soldiers in 
citadels, the nests of tyranny and murderers of liberty ; disarming 
all his own countrymen, that no man durst show himself a well 
wilier of mine : to say the truth, I think, few of them being so, 
considering my cruel folly to my good son, and foolish kindness 
to my unkind bastard : but if there were any who felt a pity of 
so great a fall, and had yet any sparks of unslain duty left in them 
towards me, yet durst they not show it, scarcely with giving me 
alms at their doors, which yet was the only sustenance of my 
distressed life, nobody daring to show so much charity as to lend 
me a hand to guide my dark steps, till this son of mine, God 
knows, worthy of a more virtuous, and niore fortunate father, 
forgetting my abominable wrongs, not reckoning danger, and 
neglecting the present good way he was in of doing himself good, 
came hither to do this kind office you see him perform towards me, 
to my unspeakable grief ; not only because his kindness is a glass 
even to my blind eyes of my naughtiness, but that above all griefs, 
it grieves me he should desperately adventure the loss of his well 
deserving life for mine that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, 
as if he would carry mud in a chest of crystal. For well I know, 
he that now reigneth, how much soever, and with good reason, he 
despiseth me, of all men despised ; yet he will not let slip any advan- 
tage to make away with him, whose just title, ennobled by courage 
and goodness, may one day shake the seat of a never secure 
tyranny. And for this cause I craved of him to lead me to the 
top of this rock, indeed I must confess, with meaning to free him 
from so serpentine a companion, as I am. But he finding what 
I purposed, only therein since he was born, showed himself dis- 
obedient unto me. And now gentlemen, you have the true story, 
which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischievous 
proceedings may be the glory of his filial piety, the only reward 
now left for so great a merit. And if it may be, let me obtain that 
of you, which my son denies me : for never was there more pity 
in saving any than in ending me, both because therein my agony 
shall end, and so you shall perceive this excellent young man, 
who else wilfully follows his own ruin.' 

" The matter in itself lamentable, lamentably expressed by the 
old prince, which needed not take to himself the gestures of pity, 

174 ARCADIA [book ii. 

since his face could not put off the marks thereof, greatly moved 
the two princes to compassion, which could not stay in such hearts 
as theirs without seeking remedy. But by and by the occasion 
was presented : for Plexirtus, so was the bastard called, came 
thither with forty horse, only of purpose to murder his brother, of 
whose coming he had soon advertisement, and thought no eyes of 
sufficient credit in such a matter but his own, and therefore came 
himself to be actor and spectator. And as soon as he came, not 
regarding the weak, as he thought, guard but of two men, 
commanded some of his followers to set their hands to his, in the 
killing of Leonatus. But the young prince, though not otherwise 
armed but with a sword, how falsely soever he.was dealt with by 
others, would not betray himself, but bravely drawing it out, made 
the death of the first that assailed him, warn his fellows to come 
more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were 
quickly become parties (so just a defence deserving as much as old 
friendship) and so did behave them among that company, more 
injurious than valiant, that many of them lost their lives for their 
wicked master. 

" Yet perhaps had the number of them at last prevailed, if the 
king of Pontus, lately by them made so, had not come unlooked 
for to their succour. Who (having had a dream which had fixed 
his imagination vehemently upon some great danger, presently to 
follow those two princes, whom he most dearly loved) was come in 
all haste, following as well as he could their track, with a hundred 
horses in that country, which he thought, considering who then 
reigned, a fit place enough to make the stage of any tragedy. 

" But then the match had been so ill made for Plexirtus that his 
ill-led life and worse-gotten honour should have tumbled together 
to destruction had there not come in Tydeus and Telenor, with 
forty or fifty in their suite, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two 
were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought up 
from their infancy with Plexirtus, men of such prowess as not to 
know fear in themselves, and yet to teach it in others that should 
deal with them, for they had often made their lives triumph over 
most terrible dangers, never dismayed, and ever fortunate ; and 
truly no more settled in valour, than disposed to goodness and 
justice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could have 
learned to make friendship a child, and not the father of virtue. 
But bringing up, rather then choice, having first knit their minds 
unto him (indeed crafty enough, either to hide his faults, or never 
to show them, but when they might pay home) they wiUingly held 
out the course, rather to satisfy him than all the world ; and rather 
to be good friends, than good men : so as though they did not like 
the evil he did, yet they liked him that did the evil : and though 


not counsellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now 
they having heard of this sudden going out with so small a 
company, in a country full of evil-wishing minds towards him, 
though they knew not the cause, followed him ; till they found him 
in such case that they were to venture their lives, or else he to lose 
his, which they did with such force of mind and body, that truly I 
may justly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had never till then found 
any that could make them so well repeat their hardest lesson in the 
feats of arms. And briefly so they did ; that if they overcame not, 
yet were they not overcome, but carried away that ungrateful 
masfer of theirs to a place- of security, howsoever the princes 
laboured to the contrary. But this matter being thus far begun, it 
became not the constancy of the princes so to leave it ; but in all 
haste making forces both in Pontus, and Phrygia, they had in few 
days left him but only that one strong place where he was. For, 
fear having been the only knot that had fastened his people unto 
him, that once united by a greater force, they all scattered from 
him, like so many birds whose cage had been broken. 

" In which season the blind king, -having in the chief city of his 
realm set the crown upon his son Leonatus's head, with many tears 
both of joy and sorrow, setting forth to the whole people his own 
faults, and his son's virtue ; after he had kissed him, and forced 
his son to accept honour of him, as of his new become subject, 
even in a moment died, as it should seem, his heart broken with 
unkindness and affliction, stretched so far beyond his limits with 
this access of comfort that it was able no longer to keep safe his 
vital spirits. But the new king, having no less lovingly performed 
all duties to him dead, than alive, pursued on the siege of his 
unnatural brother, as much for the revenge of his father as the 
establishing of his own quiet. In which siege truly I cannot but 
acknowledge the prowess of those two brothers, than whom the 
princes never found in all their travel, two of greater ability to 
perform, nor of abler skill for conduct. 

'" But Plexirtus finding that if nothing else, famine would at last 
bring him to destruction, thought better by humbleness to creep, 
where by pride he could not march. For certainly so had Nature 
formed him, and the exercise of craft conformed him to all turning- 
ness of flights, that, though no man had less, goodness in his soul 
than he, no man could better find the places whence arguments 
might grow of goodness to another ; though no man felt less pity, 
no man could tell better how to stir pity ; no man more impudent 
to deny, where proofs were not manifest ; no man more ready to 
confess with a repenting manner of aggravating his own evil, 
where denial would but make the fault fouler. Now he took this 
way, that having gotten a passport for one, that pretended he 

i;6 ARCADIA [book ii. 

would put Plexirtus alive into his hands, to speak with the king his 
brother, he himself (though much against the minds of the valiant 
brothers, who rather wished to die in brave defence) with a rope 
about his neck, bare-footed, came to offer himself to the discretion 
of Leonatus. Where what submission he used, how cunningly in 
making greater the fault, he made the faultiness the less, how 
artificially he could set out the torments of his own conscience, 
with the burdensome cumber he had found of his ambitious desires, 
how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to live, 
he begged life in the refusing it, I am not cunning enough to be 
able to express ; but so fell out of it, that though at first sight 
Leonatus saw him with no other eye than as the murderer of his 
father, and anger already began to paint revenge in many colours, 
ere long he had not only gotten pity but pardon ; and if not an 
excuse of the fault passed, yet an opinion of a future amendment : 
while the poor villains (chief ministers of his wickedness, now 
betrayed by the author thereof) were delivered to many cruel sorts 
of death ; he so handling it, that it rather seemed he had more 
come into the defence of an unremediable mischief already com- 
mitted than that they had done it at first by his consent. 

" In such sort the princes left these reconciled brothers (Plexirtus 
in all his behaviour carrying him in far lower degree of service than 
the ever-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) and taking 
likewise their leaves of their good friend the king of Pontus, who 
returned to enjoy some benefit, both of his wife and kingdom, they 
privately went thence, having only with them the two valiaut 
brothers, who would needs accompany them through divers places, 
they four doing acts more dangerous, though less famous, because 
they were but private chivalries ; till hearing of the fair and virtuous 
queen Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant king of Armenia, 
they bent themselves to her succour, both because the weaker, and 
weaker as being a lady, and partly because they heard the king of 
Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men living, 
for matters of arms, that were known to be in the world. Whereof 
one was the prince Plangus whose name was sweetened by your 
breath, peerless lady, when the last day it pleased you to mention 
him unto me, the other two were two great princes, though holding 
of him, Barzanes and Euardus, men of giant-like both hugeness 
and force ; in which two especially, the trust the king had of 
victory was reposed. And of them, those brothers Tydeus and 
Telenor, sufficient judges in warlike matters, spoke so high com- 
mendations, that the two princes had even a youthful longing to 
have some trial of their virtue. And therefore as soon as they 
were entered into Lycia, they joined themselves with them that 
faithfully served the poor queen, at that time besieged ; and ere 


long animated in such sort their almost overthrown hearts, that 
they went by force to relieve the town, though they were deprived 
of a great part of their strength by the parting of the two brothers, 
who were sent for in all haste to return to their old friend and 
master Plexirtus, who, willingly hoodwinking themselves from 
seeing his faults, and binding themselves to believe what he said, 
often abused the virtue of courage to defend his foul vice of 
ii^ustice. But now they were sent for to advance a conquest he 
was about ; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the delivery of 
the queen Erona." 

" I have heard," said Pamela, " that part of the story of Plangus, 
when he passed through this country, therefore you may, if you 
hst, pass over that war of Erona's quarrel, lest if you speak too 
much of war matters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily 
breed a great broil." He looked, and saw that Mc^sa indeed sat 
swallowing the sleep with open mouth, making such a noise 
withal, as nobody could lay the stealing of a nap to her charge. 
Whereupon, willing to use that occasion, I kneeled down, and with 
humble heartedness, and hearty earnestness printed in my graces ; 
" Alas ! " said I, " divine lady, who have wrought such miracles 
in me, as to make a prince, none of the basest, to think all princi- 
palities base in respect of the sheephook which may hold him up 
in your sight ; vouchsafe now at last to hear in direct words my 
humble suit, while this dragon sleeps that keeps the golden fruit. 
If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination 
fain to myself anything which may be the least spot to that 
heavenly virtue which shines in all your doings, I pray the eternal 
powers, that the words I speak may be deadly poisons, while they 
are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my 
imaginations may only work their own confusion. But if love, 
love of you, love of your virtues, seek only that favour of you, 
which becometh that gratefulness which cannot misbecome your 
excellency, O do not — " He would have said farther, but Pamela 
calling aloud Mopsa, she suddenly started up, staggering, and 
rubbing her eyes, ran first out of the door, and then back to them, 
before she knew how she went out, or why she came in again : 
till at length, being fully come to her little self, she asked Pamela 
why she had called her. For nothing said Pamela, but that ye 
might hear some tales of your servant's telling : " and therefore 
now," said she, "Dorus go on." 

But as he, who found no so good sacrifice as obedience, was 
returning to the story of himself, Philoclea came in, and by and 
by after her, Miso, so as for that time they were fain to let Dorus 
depart. But Pamela delighted even to preserve in her memory 
the words of so well a beloved speaker, repeated the whole 


i;8 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and 
gone, to recreate themselves something, even tired with the 
noisomeness of Miso's conversation, they determined to go, while 
the heat of the day lasted, to bathe themselves, such being the 
manner of the Arcadian nymphs often to do, in the river of Ladon, 
and take with them a lute, meaning to delight them under some 
shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso, with her daughter 
Mopsa was after them : and as it lay in their way to pass by the 
other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stole 
down after them, which she might the better do, because that 
Gynecia was sick, and Basilius, that day being his birth-day, 
according to his manner, was busy about his devotions ; and 
therefore she went after, hoping to find some time to speak 
with Philoclea : but not a word could she begin, but that Miso 
would be one of the audience, so that she was driven to recommend 
thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently performed 
her trust, till they came to the river side, which of all the rivers 
of Greece had the praise for excellent pureness and sweetness, 
insomuch as the very bathing in it was accounted exceeding 
healthful. It ran upon so fine and delicate a ground, as one could 
not easily judge whether the river did more wash the gravel, or the 
gravel did purify the river ; the river not running forth right, but 
almost continually winding, as if the lower streams would return 
to their spring, or that the river had a delight to play with itself. 
The banks of either side seeming arms of the loving earth that 
fain would embrace it, and the river a wanton nymph which still 
would slip from it ; either side of the bank being fringed with 
most beautiful trees, which resisted the sun's darts from over- 
much piercing the natural coldness of the river. There was 
among the rest a goodly cypress, who bowing her fair head over 
the water, it seemed she looked into it, and dressed her green 
locks by that running river. 

There the princesses determining to bathe themselves, though 
it was so privileged a place, upon pain of death, as nobody durst 
presume to come hither ; yet for the more surety, they looked round 
about, and could see nothing but a water-spaniel, who came down 
the river, showing that he hunted for a duck, and with a snuffling 
grace, disdaining that his smelling force could not as well prevail 
through the water as through the air ; and therefore waiting with 
his eye to see whether he could espy the ducks getting up again, 
but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out 
of the river, and shaking off the water (as great men do their 
friends) now he had no farther cause to use it, inweeded himself 
so that the ladles lost the farther marking his sportfulness : and 
inviting Zelmane also to wash herself with them, and she excusing 


herself with having taken a late cold, they began by piece-meal 
to take away the eclipsing of their apparel. 

Zelmane would have put to her helping hand, but she was taken 
with such a quivering, that she thought it more wisdom to lean 
herself to a tree, and look on, while Miso and Mopsa, like a couple 
of foreswat melters, were getting the pure silver of their bodies out 
of the ure of their garments. But as the raiments went off to 
receive kisses of the ground, Zelmane envied the happiness of all, 
but of the smock was even jealous, and when that was taken away 
too, and that Philoclea remained, ^for her Zelmane only marked, 
like a diamond taken from out of the rock, or rather like the sun 
getting from under a cloud, and showing his naked beams to the 
full view, then was the beauty too much for a patient sight, the 
delight too strong for a stayed conceit, so that Zelmane could not 
choose but run, to touch, embrace and kiss her. But conscience 
made her come to herself, and leave Philoclea, who blushing, 
and withal smihng, making shamefacedness pleasant, and 
pleasure shamefaced, tenderly moved her feet, unwonted to 
feel the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made 
a pretty kind of shrugging come over her body, like the 
twinkling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the 
river itself gave way unto her, so that she was straight breast 
high, which was the deepest that thereabout she could be : 
and when cold Ladon had once fully embraced them, himself 
was no more so cold to those ladies, but as if his cold com- 
plexion had been heated with love, so seemed he to play about 
every part he could touch. 

" Ah sweet, now sweetest Ladon," said Zelmane, " why dost thou 
not stay thy course to have more full taste of thy happiness ? but 
the reason is manifest, the upper streams make such haste to have 
their part of embracing, that the nether, though lothly, must needs 
give place unto them. O happy Ladon, within whom she is, 
upon whom her beauty falls, through whom her eye pierceth. 
O happy Ladon, which art now an unperfect mirror of all per- 
fection, can'st thou ever forget the blessedness of this impression ? 
if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine gravel to weeds 
and mud ; if thou do, let some unjust niggards make wares to 
spoil thy beauty ; if thou do, let some greater river fall into thee, 
to take away the name of Ladon, O ! Ladon, happy Ladon, rather 
slide than run by her, lest thou should'st make her legs slip from 
her, and then, O happy Ladon, who would then call thee, but 
the most cursed Ladon? But as the ladies played then in the 
water, sometimes striking it with their hands, the water, making 
lines in his face, seemed to smile at such beating, and with twenty 
bubbles not to be content to have the picture of their face in large 

l8o ARCADIA [book n. 

upon him, but he would in each of these bubbles set forth the 
miniature of them. 

But Zelmane, whose sight was gain-said by nothing but the 
transparent veil of Ladon (like a chamber where a great fire is 
kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance 
continually hath his heat increased) had the coals of her affection 
so kindled with wonder, and blown with delight, that now all her 
parts grudged, that her eyes should do more homage, than they, 
to the princes of them. Insomuch that taking up the lute, her 
wit began to be with a divine fury inspired ; her voice would 
in so beloved an occasion second her wit ; her hands accorded 
the lute's music to the voice ; her panting heart danced to the 
music ; while I think her feet did beat the time ; while her body 
was the room where it should be celebrated ; her soul the queen 
which should be delighted. And so together went the utterance 
and invention, that one might judge, it was Philoclea's beauty 
which did speedily write it in her eyes ; or the sense thereof, 
which did word by word indite it in her mind, whereto she, but 
as an organ, did only lend utterance. The song was to this 
purpose : 

What tongue can her perfection tell, 
In whose each part all tongues may dwell ? 
Her hair fine threads of finest gold, 
In curled knots man's thought to hold : 
But that her forehead says, in me 
A whiter beauty you may see ; 
Whiter indeed, more white than snow, 
Which on cold winter's face doth grow : 
That doth present those even brows, 
Whose equal line their angles bows ; 
Like to the moon when after change 
Her horned head abroad doth range : 
And arches be two heavenly lids, 
Whose wink each bold attempt forbids. 
For the black stars those spheres contain, 
The matchless pair, even praise doth stain. 
No lamp whose light by art is got, 
No sun which shines, and seeth not, 
Can liken them without all peer, 
Save one as much as other clear ; 
Which only thus unhappy be, 
Because themselves they cannot see. 
Her cheeks with kindly claret spread, 
Aurora-like new out of bed ; 
Or like the fresh queen-apple's side, 
flushing at sight of Phoebus pride, 

BOOK ii.j ARCADtA i§i 

Her nose, her chin pure ivory wears : 
No purer than the pretty ears. 
So that therein appears some blood 
Lilce wine and millc that mingled stood : 
In whose incirclets if ye gaze, 
Your eyes may tread a lover's maze. 
But with such turns the voice to stray, 
No talk untaught can find the way. 
The tip no jewel needs to wear ; 
The tip is jewel of the ear. 

But who those ruddy lips can miss, 
Which blessed still themselves to kiss ? 
Rubies, cherries, and roses new. 
In worth, in taste, in perfect hue : 
Which never part, but that they show 
Of precious pearl the double row j 
The second-sweetly senced word. 
Her heavenly-dewed tongue to guard, 
Whence never word in vain did flow. 

Fair under those doth stately grow. 
The handle of this precious work, 
The neck in which strange graces lurk. 
Such be I think the sumptuous towers, 
Which skill doth make in princes bowersi 
So good assay invites the eye, 
A little downward to espy. 
The lively clusters of her breasts, 
Of Venus babe the wanton nests : 
Like pomels round of marble clear ; 
Where azur'd veins well mix'd appear, 
With dearest tops of porphyrie. 

Betwixt these two a way doth lie, 
A way more worthy beauty's fame. 
Than that which bears the Milky name. 
This leads into the joyous field. 
Which only still doth lilies yield : 
But lilies such whose native smell, 
The Indians odors doth excel. 
Waist it is called, for it doth waste 
Men's lives, until it be embrac'd. 

There may one see, and yet not see 
Her ribs in white all armed be. 
More white than Neptune's foamy face, 
When struggling rocks he would embrace. 

In those delights the wand' ring thought 
Might of each side astray be brought, 
But that her navel doth unite. 
In curious circle busie sight ; 

t§2 ARCADiA (book a. 

A dainty seal of virgin- wax, 

Where nothing but impression lacks. 

Her belly there glad sight doth fill, 
Justly entitled Cupid's hill. 
A hill most fit for such a master, 
A spotless mine of alabaster. 
Like alabaster fair and sleek. 
But soft and supple, satin-like. 
In that sweet seat the boy doth sport : 
Loth, I must leave his chief resort. 
For such a use the world hath gotten, 
The best things still must be forgotten. 

Yet never shall my song omit 
Her thighs for Ovid's song more fit ; 
Which flanked with two sugared flanks, 
Lift up her stately swelling banks ; 
That Albion cliffs in whiteness pass ; 
With haunches smooth as looking-glass. 
But bow all knees, now of her knees 
My tongue doth tell what fancy sees. 
The knots of joy, the gems of love, 
Whose motion makes all graces move. 
Whose bough incav'd doth yield such sight, 
Like cunning painter shadowed white. 
The gartring place with child-like sign. 
Shows easy print in metal fine. 
But then again the flesh doth rise 
In her brave calves like chrystal skies. 
Whose Atlas is a smallest small. 
More white then whitest bone of all. 

Thereout steals out that round clean foot 
This noble cedar's precious root : 
In show and scent pale violets, 
Whose step on earth all beauty sets. 

But back unto her back, my Muse, 
Where Leda's swan his feathers mews. 
Along whose ridge such bones are met, 
Like comfits round in marchpane set. 

Her shoulders be like to white doves, 
Perching within square royal roves. 
Which leaded are with silver skin, 
Passing the hate spot, emerlin. 

And thence those arms derived are ; 
The Phoenix wings are not so rare 
For faultless length, and stainless hue. 

Ah woe is me, my woes renew. 
Now course doth lead me to her hand 
Of my first love the fatal band. 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 183 

Where whiteness doth for ever sit ; 

Nature herself enamell'd it. 

For therewith strange compact doth lie 

Warm snow, moist pearl, soft ivory. 

There fall those sapphire-coloured brooks, 

Which conduite-like with curious crooks. 

Sweet Islands make in that sweet land. 

As for the fingers of the hand, 

The bloody shafts of Cupid's war. 

With amethysts they beaded are. 
Thus hath each part his beauties part : 

But how the graces do impart. 

To all her limbs a special grace. 

Becoming every time and place. 

Which doth even beauty beautify. 

And most bewitch the wretched eye. 

How all this is but a fair inn 

Of fairer guests, which dwell therein. 

Of whose high praise, and praiseful bliss. 

Goodness the pen, and Heaven paper is : 

The ink immortal fame doth lend : 

As I began, so must I end. 
No tongue can her perfection tell, 
In whose each part all tongues may dwell. 

But as Zelmane was coining to the latter end of her song, she 
might see the same water-spaniel which before had hunted, come 
and fetch away one of Philoclea's gloves, whose fine proportion, 
showed well what a dainty guest was wont there to be lodged. It 
was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dog was therewith 
delighted, and so let him go a little way withal, who quickly carried 
it out of sight among certain trees and bushes, which were very 
close together. But by and by he came again, and amongst the 
raiment. Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their 
coming out, the dog lighted of a little book of four or five leaves of 
paper, and was bearing that away too. But when Zelmane, not 
knowing what importance it might be of, ran after the dog, who 
going straight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliver it to 
a gentleman, who secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, 
the gentleman rose up, and with a courteous, though sad, counten- 
ance presented himself unto her. Zelmane's eyes straight willed 
her mind to mark him, for she thought in herself, she had never 
seen a man of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making 
took not away delicacy, nor beauty fierceness : being indeed such 
a right man-like man, as nature often erring, yet shows she would 
fain make. But when she had a while, not without admiration, 
viewed him, she desired him to deliver back the glove and paper, 

t84 ARCADIA [book ii. 

because they were the lady Philoclea's, telling him withal, that she 
would not willingly let them know of his close lying in that pro- 
hibited place, while they were bathing themselves, because she 
knew they would be mortally ofFendfd withal. "Fair lady," 
answered he, " the worst of the complaint is already passed, since 
I feel of my fault in myself the punishment. But for these things, 
I assure you, it was my dog's wanton boldness, not my presump- 
tion. With that he gave her back the paper : but for the glove," 
said he, " since it is my lady Philoclea's, give me leave to keep it, 
since my heart cannot persuade itself to part from it. And I pray 
you tell the lady, lady indeed of all my desires, that owns it, that 
I will direct my life to honour this glove with serving her." " O 
villain," cried out Zelmane, maddened with finding an unlooked for 
rival, and that he would make her a messenger, " dispatch," said 
she, " and deliver it, or by the life of her that owns it, I will make 
thy soul, though too base a price, pay for it " : and with that drew 
out her sword, which, Amazon like, she ever wore about her. The 
gentleman retired himself into an open place from among the 
bushes, and then drawing out his too, he offered to deliver it unto 
her, saying, withal, " God forbid I should use my sword against 
you, sith, if I be not deceived, you are the same famous Amazon, 
that both defended my lady's just title of beauty against the valiant 
Phalantus, and saved her life in killing the lion, therefore I am 
rather to kiss your hands, with acknowledging myself bound to 
obey you." 

But this courtesy was worse than a bastinado to Zelmane : so 
that again with rageful eyes she bade him defend himself, for no 
less than his life should answer it. " A hard case," said he, " to 
teach my sword that lesson, which hath ever used to turn itself to 
a shield in a lady's presence." But Zelmane hearkening to no 
more words, began with such witty fury to pursue him with blows 
and thrusts, that nature and virtue commanded the gentleman to 
look to his safety. Yet still courtesy, that seemed incorporate in 
his heart, would not be persuaded by danger to offer any offence, 
but only to stand upon the best defensive guard he could ; some- 
times going back, being content in that respect to take on the 
figure of cowardice ; sometimes with strong and well-met wards, 
sometimes cunning avoidings of his body ; and sometimes feigning 
some blows, which himself puU'd back before they needed to be 
withstood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the 
fight of Zelmane, who, more spited with that courtesy, that one 
that did nothing should be able to resist her, burned away with 
choler any motions which might grow out of her own sweet dis- 
position, determined to kill him if he fought no better and so 
redoubling her blows, drove the stranger to no other shift than to 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 18s 

ward and go back ; at that time seeming the image of innocency 
against violence. But at length he found, that both in pubUc and 
private respects, who stands only upon defence, stands upon no 
defence : for Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going 
toward it, withal stepped back as he was accustomed : she stopped 
her blow in the air, and suddenly turning the point, ran full at his 
breast, so as he was driven with the pummel of his sword, having 
no other weapon of defence, to beat it down : but the thrust was 
so strong that he could not so wholly beat it away, but that it met 
with his thigh, through which it ran. But Zelmane retiring her 
sword, and seeing his blood, victorious anger was conquered by 
the before conquering pity ; and heartily sorry, and even ashamed 
with herself she was, considering how Uttle he had done, who well 
she found could have done more. Insomuch that she said, " truly 
I am sorry for your hurt, but yourself gave the cause, both in 
refusing to deliver the glove, and yet not fighting as I know you 
could have done. But," said she, " because I perceive you disdain 
to fight with a woman, it may be before a year come about, you 
shall meet with a near kinsman of mine, Pyrocles prince of 
Macedon, and I give you my word, he for me shall maintain this 
quarrel against you." "I wotild" answered Amphialus, "I had 
many more such hurts to meet and know that worthy prince, 
whose virtue I love and admire, though my good destiny hath not 
been to see his person." 

But as they were so speaking, the young ladies came, to whom, 
Mopsa, curious in. anything but her own good behaviour, having 
followed and seen Zelmane fighting, had cried, what she had seen, 
while they were drying themselves : and the water, with some 
drops, seemed to weep, that it should pass from such bodies. 
But they careful of Zelmane, assuring themselves that any Arcadian 
would bear reverence to them, Pamela with a noble mind, and 
Philoclea with a loving, hastily, hiding the beauties, whereof nature 
was proud, and they ashamed, they made quick work to come to 
save Zelmane. But already they found them in talk, and Zelmane 
careful of his wound. But when they saw him, they knew it was 
their cousin-german, the famous Amphialus, whom yet with a 
sweet graced bitterness they blamed for breaking their father's 
commandment, especially while themselves were in such sort 
retired. But he craved pardon, protesting unto them that he had 
only been to seek solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that 
had a good while possessed him, and guided to that place by his 
spaniel, where while the dog hunted in the river, he had withdrawn 
himself to pacify with sleep his over watched eyes, till a dream 
waked him, and made him see that whereof he had dreamed, 
and withal not obscurely signified, that he felt the smart of his 

iS6 ARCADIA [book n. 

own doings. But Philoclea, that was even jealous of herself for 
Zelmane, would needs have her glove, and not without so mighty 
a lower as that face could yield. As for Zelmane when she knew 
it was Amphialus ; " Lord Amphialus," said she, " I have long 
desired to know you heretofore, I must confess, with more good- 
will, but still with honouring your virtue, though I love not your 
person : and at this time I pray you let us take care of your wound, 
upon condition you shall hereafter promise that a more knightly 
combat shall be performed between us." Amphialus answered 
in honourable sort, but with such excusing himself, that more and 
more accused his love to Philoclea, and provoked more hate in 
Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certain shepherds not 
far off, who knew and well observed their limits, to come and 
help to carry away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not 
without danger to strain it : and so he leaving himself with them, 
departed from them, faster bleeding in his heart than at his wound, 
which bound up by the sheets, wherewith Philoclea had been 
wrapped, made him thank the wound, and bless the sword for 
that favour. 

He being gone, the ladies, with merry anger talking, in what 
naked simplicity their cousin had seen them, returned to the 
lodge-ward ; yet thinking it too early, as long as they had any day, 
to break off so pleasing a company with going to perform a 
cumbersome obedience, Zelmane invited them to the little arbour, 
only reserved for her, which they willingly did : and there sitting, 
Pamela having a while made the lute in his language show how 
glad it was to be touched by her fingers, Zelmane deHvered up 
the paper which Amphialus had at first yielded unto her, and 
seeing written upon the backside of it the complaint of Plangus, 
remembering what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how 
much Philoclea knew of her estate, she took occasion in presenting 
of it, to ask whether it were any secret or no. "No truly," 
answered Phrloclea, " it is but even an exercise of my father's 
writing, upon this occasion : he was one day, somewhile before 
your coming hither, walking abroad, having us two with him, 
almost a mile hence, and crossing a high-way, which comes from 
the city of Megalopolis, he saw this gentleman, whose name is 
there written, one of the properest and best graced men that ever 
I saw, being of middle age and of a mean stature. He lay as then 
under a tree, while his servants were getting fresh post-horses for 
him. It might seem he was tired with the extreme travel he had 
taken, and yet not so tired that he forced to take any rest, so hasty 
he was upon his journey : and withal so sorrowful that the very 
face thereof was painted in' his face, which with pitiful motions, 
even groans, tears, and passionate talking to himself moved my 

BOOK ii.l ARCADIA 187 

father to fall in talk with him, who at first not knowing 
him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of grief that my 
father afterward took a delight to set it down in such a form as 
you see ; which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I 
are able to declare unto you, Zelraane willingly opened the leaves, 
and read it being written dialogue-wise in this manner. 



Alas, how long this pilgrimage doth last ? 
What greater ills have now the heavens in. store, 

To couple coming harms with sorrows past ? 
Long since my voice is hoarse, and throat is sore. 

With cries to skies,and courses to the ground. 

But more I plain, I feel my woes the more. 
Ah, where was first that cruel cunning found, 

To frame of earth, a vessel of the mind. 
Where it should be to self-destruction bound ? 

What needed so high spirits, such mansions blind ? 

Or wrapped in flesh what do they here obtain. 

But glorious name of wretched human kind? 
Balls to the stars, and thralls to fortunes reign ; 

Turn'd from themselves, infected with their rage, 
Where death is fear'd, and life is held with pain, 

Like players plac'd to fill a filthy stage, 

Where change of thoughts one fool to other shows, 

And all but jests, save only sorrows rage. 
The child feels that, the man that feeling knows. 

Which cries first born, the presage of his life. 
Where wit but serves, to have true taste of woes. 

A shop of shame, a book where blots be rife, 

This body is, this body so compos'd. 

As in itself to nourish mortal strife : 
So divers be the elements dispos'd. 

In this weak work, that it can never be 
Made uniform to any state repos'd. 

Grief only makes his wretched state to see 

(Even like a top which nought but whipping inoves) 

This man, this talking beast, this walking tree. 
Grief is the stone which finest judgments proves ; 

For who grieves not, hath but a blockish brain, 

Since cause of grief no cause from life removes, 

How long wilt thou with mournful music stain 
The cheerful notes those pleasant places yield. 
Where all good haps a perfect state maintain ? 



Cursed be good haps, and cursed be they that build 

Their hopes on haps, and do not make despair 
For all those certain blows the surest shield. 

Shall I that saw Erona's shining hair, 

Torn with her hands, and those same hands of snow 

With loss of purest blood themselves to tear? 
Shall I that saw those breasts, where beauties flow. 

Swelling- with sighs, made pale with minds disease. 
And saw those eyes, those suns, such showers to show ? 
Shall I whose ears her mournful words did seize. 

Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath. 

Relent those thoughts which then did so displease ? 
No, no : despair my daily lesson faith. 
And faith, although I seek my life to fly, 

Plangus must live to see Erona's death. 
Plangus must live some help for her to try 

(Though in despair) for love so forceth me, 

Plangus doth live, and shall Erona die ? 
Erona die ? O heaven, if heaven there be, 

Hath all thy whirling course so small effect ? 

Serve all thy starry eyes this shame to see ? 
Let dolts in haste some altars fair erect 

To those high powers, which idly sit above, 

And virtue do in greatest need neglect. 


O man take heed, how thou the gods do move 
To cause full-Wrath, which thou can'st not resist* 

Blasphemous words the speaker vain do prove. 
Alas while we are wrapped in foggy mist 
Of our self love, so passions do deceive. 
We think they hurt, when most they do assist. 

To harm us worms should that high justice leave 

His nature? nay himself? for so it is. 
What glory from our loss can he receive ? 

But still our dazzled eyes their way do miss. 
While that we do at his sweet scourge repine. 
The kindly way do beat us on to bliss. 

If she must die then hath she past the line 
Of loathsome days, whose loss how can'st thou moan, 

That dost so well their miseries define ? 
But such we are with inward tempest blown 
Of winds quite contrary in waves of will : 
We moan that lost, which had we did bemoan. 



And shall she die ? shall cruel fire spill 

Those beams that set so many hearts on fire ? 
Hath she not force even death with love to kill : 

Nay, even cold death inflam'd with hot desire 

Her to enjoy where joy itself is thrall, 

Will spoil the earth of his most rich attire : 
Thus death becomes a rival to us all. 
And hopes with foul embracements her to get, 
In whose decay virtue's fair shrine must fall. 
O virtue weak, shall death his triumph set 

Upon thy spoils, which never should lie waste ? 

Let death first die ; be thou his worthy let. 
By what eclipse shall that sun be defac'd ? 
What mine hath erst thrown down so fair a tower ? 

What sacrilege hath such a saint disgfrac'd ? 
The world the garden is, she is the flower 

That sweetens all the place ; she is the guest 

Of rarest price, both heaven and earth her bower. 
And shall, O me 1 all this in ashes rest ? 
Alas if you a Phoenix new will have 

Burnt by the sun, she first must build her nest. 
But well you know, the gentle sun would save 

Such beams so like his own, which might have might 
In him the thoughts of Phaeton's dam to grave. 
Therefore, alas, you use vile Vulcan's spite. 

Which nothing spares, to melt that virgin wax, 

Which while it is, it is all Asia's light. 
O Mars, for what doth serve thy armed ax ? 
To let that wit-old beast consume in flames 

Thy Venus child, whose beauty Venus lacks ? 
O Venus, if her praise no envy frames 

In thy high mind, get her thy husband's grace 

Sweet speaking oft a currish heart reclaims. 
O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face, 

Her face which was more lively in ray heart : 
O brain, where thought of her hath only place ; 

O hand, which touch'd her hand when we did part ; 
O lips that kiss'd that hand with my tears spent ; 

O tongue, then dumb, not daring teH my smart ; 

O soul, whose love in her is only spent, 

What ere you see, think, touch, kiss, speak, or love, 

Let all for her, and unto her be bent, 


Thy wailing words do much my spirits move. 
They uttered are in such a feeling fashion, 

1 90 ARCADIA [book ii. 

That sorrows work against my will I prove. 
Methinks I am partaker of thy passion, 
And in thy case do glaze mine own debility : 
Self-guilty folk most prone to feel compassion. 

Yet reason faith, reason should have ability 

To hold those worldly things in such proportion, 

As let them come or go with even facility. 
But our desires tyrannical extortion 
Doth force us there to set our chief delightfulness 
Where but a baiting place is all our portion. 
But still although we fail of perfect rightfulness. 

Seek we to tame those childish superfluities : 
Let us not wink though void of purest sightfulness 

For what can breed more peevish incongruities, 
Than man to yield to female lamentations : 
Let us some grammar learn of more congruities. 


If through mine ears pierce any consolations, 
By wise discourse, sweet tunes, or poets fiction ; 

If aught I cease those hideous exclamations ; 
While that my soul, she, lives in affliction ; 

Then let my life long time on earth maintained be. 
To wretched me, the last worst malediction. 

Can I that knew her sacred parts, restrained be 
From any joy ? know fortunes vile displacing her. 

In mortal rules let raging woes contained be ? 
Can I forget, when they in prison placing her. 

With swelling heart in spite and due disdainfulness 

She lay for dead, till I help'd with unlacing her ? 
Can I forget from how much mourning painfulness 

With diamond in window-glass she grav'd 

Erona die, and end this ugly painfulness ? 

Can I forget in how strange phrase she crav'd 
That quickly they would her burn, drown or smother, 

As if by death she only might be sav'd ? 
Then let me eke forget one hand from other : 

Let me forget that Plangus I am called : 

Let me forget I am son to my mother : 

But if my memory must thus be thralled 
To that strange stroke which conquered all my senses. 

Can thoughts still thinking, so rest unapalled ? 


Who still doth seek against himself offences. 

What pardon can avail ? or who employs him 
To hurt himself, what shields can be defences ? 

BOOK 11,] ARCADIA 191 

Woe to poor man ; each outward thing annoys him 

In divers kinds j yet as he were not filled, 

He heaps in outward grief, that most destroys him. 

Thus is our thought with pain for thistles tilled : 
Thus be our noblest parts dried up with sorrow : 

Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled. 
One day lays up store of grief for the morrow : 

And whose good haps do leave him unprovided. 
Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow : 

Betwixt the good and shade of good divided, 
We pity deem that which but weakness is : 

So are we from our high creation slided. 
But Plangus, lest I may your sickness miss. 

Or rubbing, hurt the sore, I here do end. 

The ass did hurt when he did think to kiss. 

When Zelmane had read it over, marvelling very much of the 
speech of Erona's death, and therefore desirous to know further of 
it, but more desirous to hear Philoclea speak, " Most excellent 
lady," said she, " one may be little the wiser for reading this dialogue, 
since it neither sets forth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, 
nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and 
him with sorrow ; therefore I would humbly crave to understand the 
particular discourse thereof, because, I must confess, something in 
my travel I have heard of this strange matter, which I would be 
glad to find by so sweet an authority confirmed." " The truth is," 
answered Philoclea, " that after he knew my father to be prince of 
this country, while he hoped to prevail something with him in a 
great request he made unto him, he was content to open fully the 
estate both of himself, and of that lady ; which with my sister's 
help," said she, "Who remembers it better than I, I will declare 
unto you. And first of Erona, being the chief subject of this 
discourse, this story, with more tears and exclamations than I list 
to spend about it, he recounted." 

" Of late there reigned a king in Lydia, who had, for the blessing 
of his marriage, this only daughter of his, Erona, a princess worthy 
for her beauty, as much praise, as beauty may be praise-worthy. 
This princess Erona, being nineteen years of age, seeing the 
country of Lydia so much devoted to Cupid, as that in every place 
his naked pictures and images were superstitiously adored (either 
moved thereunto by the esteeming that it could be no god-head, 
which could breed wickedness, or the shamefaced consideration of 
such nakedness) procured so much of her father, as utterly to pull 
down, and deface all those statutes and pictures : which how 
terribly he punished, for to that the Lydians impute it, quickly 
after appeared. 

192 ARCADIA [book n. 

" For she had not lived a year longer, when she was stricken 
with most obstinate love to a young man but of mean parentage, 
in her father's court, named Antiphilus : so mean, as that he was 
but the son of her nurse, and by that means, without other desert, 
became known of her. Now so evil could she conceal her fire, and 
so wilfully persevered she in it that her father offering her the 
marriage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia, who desired her 
more than the joys of heaven, she for Antiphilus's sake refused it. 
Many ways her father sought to withdraw her from it, sometimes 
by persuasions, sometimes by threatenings ; once, hiding Antiphilus, 
and giving her to understand that he was fled the country, lastly, 
making a solemn execution to be done of another under the name 
of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But neither she liked 
persuasions, nor fesu-ed threatenings, nor changed for absence : 
and when she thought him dead, she sought all means, as well by 
poison as knife, to send her soul, at least to be married in the 
eternal church with him. This so broke the tender father's heart, 
that, leaving things as he found them, he shortly after died. Then 
forthwith Erona, being seized of the crown, and arming her will 
with authority, sought to advance her affection to the holy title of 

" But before she could accomplish all the solemnities, she was 
overtaken with a war the King Tiridates made upon her, only 
for her person, towards whom, for her ruin, love had kindled his 
cruel heart, indeed cruel and tyrannous ; for being far too strong 
in the field, he spared no man, woman, nor child ; but, as though 
there could be found no foil to set forth the extremity of his love, 
but extremity of hatred, wrote, as it were, the sonnets of his love 
in the blood, and turned them in the cries of her subjects ; although 
his fair sister Artaxia, who would accompany him in the army, 
sought all means to appease his fury : till lastly, he besieged 
Erona in her best city, vowing to win her, or lose his life. And 
now had he brought her to the point either of a woeful consent, 
or a ruinous denial, when there came thither, following the courss 
which virtue and fortune led them, two excellent young princes, 
Pyrocles and Musidorus, the one prince of Macedon, the other 
of Thessalia : two princes as Plangus said, and he witnessed his 
saying with sighs and tears, the most accomplished both in body 
and mind that the sun ever looked upon." While Philoclea spoke 
those words ; O sweet words, thought Zelmane to herself, which 
are not only a praise to me, but a praise to praise herself, which 
out of that mouth issueth. 

"Those two princes," said Philoclea, "as well to help the 
weaker, especially being a lady as to save a Greek people from 
being ruined by such whom we call and count barbarous, gathering 


together such of the honestest Lycians as would venture their 
lives to succour their princess ; giving order by a secret message, 
they sent into the city that they should issue with all force at an 
appointed time : they set upon Tiridates's camp with so well 
guided a fierceness that being on both sides assaulted, he was 
like to be overthrown, but that this Plangus, being general of 
Tiridates's horsemen, especially aided by the two mighty men 
Euardus and Barzanes, rescued the footmen, even almost defeated : 
but yet could not bar the princes, with their succours both of men 
and victual, to enter the city. 

" Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, 
which length seemed to him worse than a languishing consumption, 
he made a challenge of three princes in his retinue, against those 
two princes and Antiphilus : and that thereupon the quarrel should 
be decided, with compact that neither side should help his fellow, 
but of whose side the more overcame, with him the victory should 
remain. Antiphilus (though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt 
of war, than venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, 
especially since the two strangers that had no interest in it, did 
willingly accept it ; besides that, he saw it like enough, that the 
people, weary of the miseries of war, would rather give him up, 
if they saw him shrink, than for his sake venture their ruin, con- 
sidering that the challengers were of far greater worthiness than 
himself. So it was agreed upon ; and against Pyrocles was 
Euardus king of Bithynia ; Barzanes of Hircania against 
Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarce able to resist 
them ; and against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus, being 
his own cousin german, and son to the king of Iberia. Now so 
it fell out, that Musidorus slew Barzanes, and Pyrocles Euardus, 
which victory those princes esteemed above all that ever they 
had : but of the other side Plangus took Antiphilus prisoner : 
under which colour, as if the matter had been equal, though indeed 
it was not, the greater part being overcome of his side, Tiridates 
continued his war : and to bring Erona to a compelled yielding, 
sent her word that he would the third morrow after, before the 
walls of the town, strike off Antiphilus's head, without his suit in 
that space were granted, adding, withal, because he had heard of 
her desperate affection, that, if in the meantime she did herself 
any hurt, what tortures could be devised should be lain upon 

" Then lo, if Cupid be a god, or that the tyranny of our own 
thoughts seem as a god unto us : but whatsoever it was then it 
did set forth the miserableness of his effects ; she being drawn 
to two contraries by one cause (for the love of him commanded 
her to yield to no other ; the love of him commanded her to 


194 ARCADIA [book n. 

preserve his life) ; which knot might well be cut, but untied it could 
not be. So that love in her passions, like a right make-bate, 
whispered to both sides arguments of quarrel. 'What,' said he, 
'of the one side, dost thou love Antiphilus, O Erona ! and shall 
Tiridates enjoy thy body? With what eyes wilt thou look upon 
Antiphilus, when he shall know that another possesseth thee? 
but if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it ? canst thou force thy heart ? 
think with thyself, if this man have thee, thou shalt never have 
more part of Antiphilus than if he were dead. But thus much 
more, that the affectation shall be still gnawing, and the remorse 
still present. Death perhaps vill cool the rage of thy affection : 
where thus, thou shalt ever love, and ever lack. Think this beside, 
if thou marry Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent a man that long 
he cannot be from being in some high place married ; can'st thou 
suffer that too ? if another kill him, he doth him the wrong ; if 
thou abuse thy body, thou dost him the wrong. His death is 
a work of nature, and either now, or at another time he shall die. 
But it shall be thy work, thy shameful work, which is in thy 
power to shun, to make him live to see thy faith falsified, and his 
bed defiled.' But when love had well kindled that party of her 
thoughts, then went he to the other side. ' What,' said he, ' O 
Erona, and is thy love of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou 
dost now make it a question whether he shall die, or no? O 
excellent affection, which for too much love will see his head off. 
Mark well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see it is 
but love of thyself which so disputeth. Thou can'st not abide 
Tiridates : this is but love of thyself ; thou shalt be ashamed to 
look upon him afterwards ; this is but fear of shame, and love 
of thyself; thou shalt want him as much then ; this is but love 
of thyself : he shall be married ; if he be well, why should that 
grieve thee, but for love of thyself? no, no, pronounce these words 
if thou can'st, let Antiphilus die.' Then the images of each side 
stood before her understanding ; one time she thought she saw 
Antiphilus dying, another time she thought Antiphilus saw her 
by Tiridates enjoyed ; twenty times calling for a servant to carry 
message of yielding, but before he came the mind was altered. 
She blushed when she considered the effect of granting ; she was 
pale, when she remembered the fruits of denying. For weeping, 
sighing, wringing her hands, and tearing her hair, were indifferent 
of both sides. Easily she would have agreed to have broken all 
disputations with her own death, but that the fear of Antiphilus's 
farther torments, stayed her. At length, even the evening before 
the day appointed for his death, the determination of yielding 
prevailed, especially, growing upon a message of Antiphilus, who 
with all the conjuring terms he could devise, besought her to save 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 19s 

his life, upon any conditions. But she had no sooner sent her 
messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to 
the two young princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, and falling down 
at their feet, desired them to try some way for her deliverance, 
showing herself resolved not to over-live Antiphilus, nor yet to 
yield to Tiridates. 

" They that knew not what she had done in private, prepared 
that night accordingly : and as sometimes it falls out that what 
is inconstancy seems cunning, so did this change indeed stand in 
as good stead as a witty dissimulation. For it made the king as 
reckless as them diligent, so that in the dead time of the night, 
the princes issued out of the town ; with whom she would needs go, 
either to die herself, or rescue Antiphilus, having no armour, 
or weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, or by what 
device, though Plangus at large described it, the conclusion was, 
the wonderful valour of the two princes so prevailed, that 
Antiphilus was succoured, and the king slain. Plangus was then 
the chief man left in the camp ; and therefore seeing no other 
remedy, conveyed in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queen 
of Armenia, who with true lamentations, made known to the world 
that her new greatness did no way comfort her in respect of her 
brother's loss, whom she studied by all means possible to revenge 
upon every one of the occasioners, having, as she thought, over- 
thrown her brother by a most abominable treason. Insomuch, 
that being at home she proclaimed great rewards to any private 
man, and herself in marriage to any prince that would destroy 
Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and, 
though against the consent of all her nobility, married to Erona ; 
in which case the two Greek princes, being called away by 
another adventure, left them. 

" But now methinks, as I have read some poets, who when they 
intend to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing 
of it, so if I do not desire you to stop your ears from me, yet may 
I well desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable 
treason of Antiphilus that brought her to this misery, and withal 
wish you all, that from all mankind indeed you stop your ears. 
O most happy were we, if we did set our loves one upon another." 
And as she spake that word, her cheeks in red letters writ more 
than her tongue did speak. " And therefore since I have named 
Plangus, I pray you, sister," said she, "help me with the rest, 
for I have held the stage long enough ; and if it please you to 
make his fortune known, as I have done Erona's, I will after take 
heart again to go on with his falsehood ; and so between us both, 
my Lady Zelmane shall understand both the cause and parties 
of this lamentation." "Nay, I beshrew me then," said Miso, 


ARCADIA [=°^'^ "• 

" I will none of that, I promise you, as long as I have the govern- 
ment I will first hLve my tale, and then my Lady Pamela, my 
Lady Zefmane, and my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then 
returned from Amphialus) may draw cuts, and the shortest cut 
sneak first. For I tell you, and this may be suffered, when you 
are married, you will have first and last word of your husbands." 

The ladies laughed to see with what an eager earnestness she 
looked, having threatened not only in her ferret eyes, but while she 
spoke her nose seeming to threaten her chin, and her shaking 
limbs one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they 
must obey, and Miso, sitting on the ground with her knees up, 
and her hands upon her knees, tuning her voice with many a 
quavering cough, thus discoursed unto them. " I tell you true," 
said she, "whatsoever you think of me, you will one day be as 
I am ; and I, simple though I sit here, thought once my penny as 
good silver, as some of you do : and if my father had not played 
the hasty fool, it is no lie I tell you, I might have had another- 
gains husband than Dametas. But let that pass, God amend 
him ; and yet I speak it not without good cause. You are full in 
your tittle-tattlings of Cupid, here is Cupid and there is Cupid. 
I will tell you now what a good old woman told me, what an old 
wise man told her, what a great learned clerk told him, and gave 
it him in writing : and here I have it in my prayer-book." " I pray 
you," said Philoclea, " let us see it and read it." " No haste, but 
good," said Miso, " you shall first know how I came by it. I was 
a young girl of seven and twenty years old, and I could not go 
through the street of our village, but I might hear the young men 
talk : O the pretty little eyes of Miso : O the fine thin lips of 
Miso : O the goodly fat hands of Miso : besides, how well a certain 
wrying in my neck became me. Then the one would wink with 
one eye, and the other cast daisies at me. I must confess, seeing 
so many amorous, it made me set up my peacock's tail with the 
highest. Which when this good old woman perceived, O the good 
old woman, well may the bones rest of the good old woman, she 
called me to her into her house. I remember fiill well it stood 
in the lane as you go to the barber's shop ; all the town knew her, 
there was a great loss of her : she called me to her, and taking 
first a sop of wine to comfort her heart, it was of the same wine 
that comes out of Candia, which we pay so dear for now-a-days, 
and in that good world was very good cheap, she called me to her : 
' Minion,' said she, indeed I was a pretty one in those days, though 
I say it, ' I see a number of lads that love you, well,' said she, 
'I say no more; do you know what love is?' With that she 
brought me into a corner, where there was painted a foul fiend 
I trow, for he had a pair of horns like a bull, his feet cloven, as many 


eyes upon his body as my grey mare hath dapples, and for all the 
world so placed. This monster sat like a hangman upon a pair 
of gallows ; in his right hand he was painted holding a crown of 
laurel ; in his left hand a purse of money ; and out of his mouth 
hung a lace of two fair pictures of a man and a woman, and such 
a countenance he showed as if he would persuade folks by those 
allurements to come thither and be hanged. I, like a tender- 
hearted wench, shrieked out for fear of the devil : ' well,' said she, 
' this same is even love ; therefore do what thou list with all those 
fellows one after another, and it recks not much what they do to 
thee, so it be in secret ; but upon my charge, never love none of 
them.' ' Why mother,' said I, ' could such a thing come from the 
belly of fair Venus ? for a few days before, our priest, between him 
and me, had told me the whole story of Venus.' ' Tush,' said she, 
' they are all deceived ; ' and therewith gave me this book which 
she said a great maker of ballads had given to an old painter, who, 
for a little pleasure, had bestowed both book and picture of her. 
'Read there,' said she, 'and thou shalt see that his mother was 
a cow, and the false Argus his father.' And so she gave me this 
book, and there now you may read it." With that the remembrance 
of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weep, as 
if it were not sorrow, it was the carcass of sorrow that appeared 
there.. But while her tears came out, like rain falling upon dirty 
furrows, the latter end of her prayer-book was read among these 
ladies, which contained this : 

Poor Painters oft with silly Poets join, 

To fill the world with strange but vain conceits : 

One brings the stuff, the other stamps the coin, 

Which breeds nought else but glosses of deceits. 

Thus painters Cupid paint, thus poets do 

A naked god, blind, young, with arrows two. 
Is he a god that ever flies the light : 

Or naked he, disguis'd in all untruth ? 
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right ? 

How is he young that tam'd old Phcebus youth ? 

But arrows two, and tipped with gold or lead? 

Some hurt, accuse a third with horny head. 

No, nothing so ; an old false knave he is, 

By Argus got on lo, then a cow : 

What time for her Juno her Jove did miss, 

And charge of her to Argus did allow. 

Mercury kill'd his false sire for this act. 

His dam a beast was pardon'd beastly fact. 
With father's death and mother's guilty shame, 

With Jove's disdain of such a rival's seed : 


The wretch compell'd a runnagate became, 

And learn'd what ill a miser-state doth breed : 

To lie, to steal, to pry, and to accuse, 

Nought in himself each other to abuse. 

Yet bears he still his parents stately gifts, 
A horned head, cloven feet, and thousand eyes, 

Some gazing still, some winking wily shifts. 
Whose long large ears, where never rumour dies. 

His horned head doth seem the heaven to spite, 

His cloven foot doth never tread aright. 
Thus half a man, with man he daily haunts, 

Cloth'd in the shape which soonest may deceive : 
Thus half a beast, each beastly vice he plants, 

In those weak hearts that his advice receive. 

He prowls each place still in new colours decked, 

Sucking one's ill, another to infect. 

To narrow breasts, he comes all wrapped in gain : 

To swelling hearts he shines in honours fire : 
To open eyes all beauties he doth rain ; 

Creeping to each with flattering of desire. 

But for that love is worst which rules the eyes, 

Thereon his name, there his chief triumph lies. 
Millions of years this old drivel Cupid lives. 

While still more wretch, more wicked he doth prove. 
Till now at length that Jove him office gives 
(At Juno's suit, who much did Argus love) 

In this our world a hangman for to be 

Of all those fools, that will have all they see. 

The ladies made sport at the description and story of Cupid. 
But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies, as she took 
them, to be read, but humbly besought Pamela we should perform 
her sister's request of the other part of the story. " Noble lady," 
answered she, beautifying her face with a sweet smiling, and the 
sweetness of her smiling with the beauty of her face, " since I am 
born a prince's daughter, let me not give example of disobedience. 
My governess will have us draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let 
us do so : and so perhaps it will light upon you to entertain this 
company with some story of your own ; and it is reason our ears 
should be willinger to hear, as your tongue is abler to deliver." 
" I will think," answered Zelmane, " excellent princess, my tongue 
of some value if it can procure your tongue thus much to favour 
me.'' But Pamela pleasantly persisting to have fortune their judge, 
they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squeamishness 
going up and down with her head like a boat in a storm,) put to 
her golden gols* among them, and blind fortune, that saw not the 
colour of them, gave her the pre-eminence : and so being her time 

* Hands. 


to speak, wiping her mouth, as there was good cause, she thus 
tumbled into her matter. 

" In time past," said she, " there was a king, the mightiest man 
in all his country, that had by his wife the fairest daughter that 
ever ate pap. Now this king did keep a great house, that every- 
body might come and take their meat freely. So one day as his 
daughter was sitting in her window, playing upon a harp as sweet 
as any rose, and combing her head with a comb all of precious 
stones, there came in a knight into the court, upon a goodly horse, 
one hair of gold, and the other of silver ; and so the knight casting 
up his eyes to the window, did fall into such love with her, that he 
grew not worth the bread he ate ; till many a sorry day going 
over his head, with daily diligence and griefly groans, he won her 
affection, so that they agreed to run away together. And so in 
May, when all true hearts rejoice, they stole out of the castle 
without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as 
they went together, often fall to kissing one another, the knight 
told her, he was brought up among the water-nymphs, who had so 
bewitched him that if he were ever ask'd his name, he must 
presently vanish away, and therefore charged her upon his blessing, 
never to ask him what he was, not whether he would. And so a 
great while she kept his commandment ; till once, passing through 
a cruel wilderness, as dark as pitch, her mouth so watered, that 
she could not choose but ask him the question. And then, he 
making the grievousest complaints that would have melted a tree 
to have heai'd them, vanish'd quite away : and she lay down, 
casting forth as pitiful cries as any shriek-owl. But having lain so, 
wet by the rain, and burnt by the sun, five days and five nights, 
she got up and went over many a high hill, and many a deep river, 
till she came to an aunt's house of hers, and came and cried to her 
for help : and she for pity gave her a nut, and bid her never open 
her nut till she was come to the extremest misery that ever tongue 
could speak of; and so she went, and she went, and never rested 
the evening, where she went in the morning, till she came to a 
second aunt, and she gave her another nut." 

" Now good Mopsa," said the sweet Philoclea, " I pray thee at 
my request keep this tale till my marriage-day, and I promise thee 
that the best gown I wear that day shall be thine." Mopsa was 
very glad of that bargain, especially that it should grow a festival 
tale : so that Zelmane, who desired , to find the uttermost what 
these ladies understood touching herself, and having understood 
the danger of Erona, of which before she had never heard, purpos- 
ing with herself, as soon as this pursuit she now was in was brought 
to any efi'ect, to succour her, entreated again, that she might know 
as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to 

200 ARCADIA [book n. 

her sister's perfecter remembrance, who with so sweet a voice, and 
so winning a grace, as in themselves were of most forcible eloquence 
to procure attention, in this manner to their earnest request soon 

" The father of this prince Plangus as yet lives, and is king of 
Iberia : a man, if the judgment of Plangus may be accepted, of no 
wicked nature, nor willingly doing evil, without himself mistake 
the evil, seeing it disguised under some form of goodness. This 
prince being married at the first to a princess, who both from her 
ancestors, and in herself was worthy of him, by her had this son 
Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the queen, as though she 
had performed the message for which she was sent into the world, 
returned again unto her maker. The king, sealing up all thoughts ' 
of love under the image of her memory, remained a widower many 
years after ; recompensing the grief of that disjoining from her, in 
conjoining in himself both a fatherly and motherly care toward her 
only child Plangus, who being grown to man's age, as our own 
eyes may judge, could not but fertily requite his father's fatherly 

" This prince, while yet the errors in his nature were excused by 
the greenness of his youth which took all the fault upon itself, loved 
a private man's wife of the principal city of that kingdom, if that 
may be called love, which he rather did take into himself willingly 
than by which he was taken forcibly. It sufficeth that the young 
man persuaded himself he loved her : she being a woman beautiful 
enough, if it be possible, that the only outside can justly entitle a 
beauty. But finding such a chase as only fled to be caught, the 
young prince brought his affection with her to that point, which 
ought to engrave remorse in her heart, and to paint shame upon 
her face. And so possessed he his desire without any interruption ; 
he constantly favouring her, and she thinking that the enamelling 
of a prince's name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But 
as I have seen one that was sick of a sleeping disease could not be 
made wake, but with pinching of him, so out of his sinful sleep his 
mind, unworthy so to be lost, was not to be called to itself, but by 
a sharp accident. It fell out, that his many times leaving of the 
court, in undue times, began to be noted ; and, as prince's ears be 
manifold, from one to another came unto the king, who, careful of 
his only son, sought and found by his spies, the necessary evil 
servants to a king, what it was, whereby he was from his laetter 
delights so diverted. Whereupon, the king, to give his fault the 
greater blow, used such means by disguising himself, that he found 
them, her husband being absent, in her house together, which he 
did to make them the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that 
way he took, laying threatenings upon her, and upon him 


reproaches. But the poor young prince, deceived with that young 
opinion, that if it be ever lawful to lie, it is for one's lover, employed 
all his wit to bring his father into a better opinion. And because 
he might bend him from that, as he counted it, crooked conceit of 
her, he wrested him, as much as he could possibly, to the other 
side, not sticking with prodigal protestations to set forth her 
chastity ; not denying his own attempt, but thereby the more 
extolling her virtue, His sophistry, prevailed, his father believed, 
and so believed, that ere long, though he were already stepped into 
the winter of his age, he found himself warm in those desires which 
were in his son far more excusable. To be short, he gave himself 
over unto it, and, because he would avoid the odious comparison 
of a young rival, sent away his son with an army, to the subduing 
of a province lately rebelled against him, which he knew could not 
be less work than of three or four years. Wherein he behaved 
himself so worthily, as even to this country the fame thereof came, 
long before his own coming : while yet his father had a speedier 
success, but in a far more unnobler conquest. For while Plangus 
was away, the old man, growing only in age and affection, followed 
his suit with all means of unhonest servants, large promises, and 
each thing else that might help to countervail his own unloveliness. 
And she, whose husband about that time died, forgetting the 
absent Plangus, or at least not hoping of him to obtain so aspiring 
a purpose, left no art unused, which might keep the line from 
breaking, whereat the fish was already taken, not drawing him 
violently, but letting him play himself upon the hook which he 
had so greedily swallowed. For, accompanying her mourning 
garments with a doleful countenance, yet neither forgetting 
handsomeness in her mourning garments, nor sweetness in her 
doleful countenance, her words were ever seasoned with sighs, and 
any favour she showed, bathed in tears, that affection might see 
cause of pity, and pity might persuade cause of affection. And 
being grown skilful in his humours, she was no less skilful in 
applying his humours ; never suffering his fear to fall to despair, 
nor his hope to hasten to an assurance : she was content he should 
think that she loved him ; and a certain stolen look should some- 
times, as though it were against her will, betray it : but if there- 
upon he grew bold, he straight was encountered with a mask of 
virtue. And that which seemeth most impossible unto me, for as 
near as I can repeat it, as Plangus told it, she could not only sigh 
when she would, as all can do, and weep when she would, as, they 
say, some can do ; but, being most impudent in her heart, she 
could when she would, teach her cheeks blushing, and make shame- 
facedness the cloak of shamelessness. In sum, to leave out many 
particularities, which he recited, she did not only use so the spur 

202 ARCADIA [book II. 

that his desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on even in such 
a career as she would have it ; that within a while the king, seeing 
with no other eyes but such as she gave him, and thinking on no 
other thoughts but such as she taught him ; having at first liberal 
measures of favours, then shortened of them, when most his desire 
was inflamed, he saw no other way but marriage to satisfy his 
longing, and her mind, as he thought, loving, but chastly loving : 
so that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious 
over the rebels, he found his father not only married, but already 
a father of a son and a daughter by this woman. Which though 
Plangus, as he had every way just cause, was grieved at ; yet did 
his grief never bring forth either contemning of her or repining at 
his father. But she, who besides that was grown a mother, and a 
step-mother, did read in his eyes her own fault, and made his 
conscience her guiltiness, thought still that his presence carried 
her condemnation ; so much the more, as that she, unchastly 
attempting his wonted fancies, found, for the reverence of his 
father's bed, a bitter refusal, which breeding rather spite than 
shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not of the fault, but 
of the repulse, she did not only, as hating him, thirst for a revenge, 
but, as fearing harm from him, endeavoured to do harm unto him. 
Therefore did she try the uttermost of her wicked wit, how to 
overthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was in the 
favour of his father : which because she saw strong both in nature 
and desert, it required the more cunning how to undermine it. 
And therefore, shunning the ordinary trade of hireling Sycophants, 
she made her praises of him to be accusations ; and her advanc- 
ing him to be his ruin. For first, with words, nearer admiration 
than liking, she would extol his excellencies, the goodliness of his 
shape, the power of his wit, the valiantness of his courage, the 
fortunateness of his successes, so as the father might find in her 
a singular love towards him : nay she shunned not to kindle some 
few sparks of jealousy in him : thus having gotten an opinion in 
his father that she was far from meaning mischief to the son, then 
fell she to praise him with no less vehemency of affection, but with 
much more cunning of malice. For then she sets forth the liberty 
of his mind, the high flying of his thoughts, the fitness in him to 
bear rule, the singular love the subjects bear him, that it was 
doubtful whether his wit were greater in winning their favours, or 
his courage in employing their favours ; that he was not born to 
live a subject life, each action of his bearing in it majesty ; such a 
kingly entertainment, such a kingly magnificence, such a kingly 
heart for enterprizes ; especially remembering those virtues, which 
in a successor are no more honoured by the subjects than suspected 
of the princes. Then would she, by putting off objections, bring 


in objections to her husband's head, already infected with suspicion. 
" Nay," would she say, " I dare take it upon my death, that he is 
no such son, as many like might have been, who loved greatness 
so wellas to build their greatness upon their father's ruin. Indeed 
ambition, like love, can abide no lingering, and ever urgeth on his 
own successes ; hating nothing, but what may stop them. But the 
gods forbid, we should ever once dream of any such thing in him, 
who perhaps might be content that you and the world should know 
what he can do : but the more power he hath to hurt, the more 
admirable is his praise, that he will not hurt." Then ever re- 
membering to strengthen the suspicion of his estate with private 
jealousy of her love, doing him excessive honour when he was in 
presence, and repeating his pretty speeches and graces in his 
absence, besides, causing him to be employed in all such dangerous 
matters, as either he should perish in them, or, if he prevailed, 
they should increase his glory, which she made a weapon to wound 
him ; until she found that suspicion began already to speak for 
itself, and that her husband's ears were grown hungry of rumours, 
and his eyes prying into every accident. 

" Then took she help to her of a servant near about her husband, 
whom she knew to be of a hasty ambition, and such a one, who, 
wanting true sufficiency to raise him, would make a ladder of any 
mischief. Him she useth to deal more plainly in alleging causes 
of jealousy, making him know the fittest times when her husband 
already was stirred that way. And so they two, with divers ways, 
nourished one humour, like musicians, that singing divers parts, 
make one music. He sometimes with fearful countenance would 
desire the king to look to himself, for that all the court and city 
were full of whisperings and expectation of some sudden change, 
upon what ground himself knew not. Another time he would 
counsel the king to make much of his son, and hold his favour, for 
that it was too late now to keep him under. Now seeming to fear 
himself, because, he said, Plangus loved none of them that were 
great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him directly, making 
a sorrowful countenance, and an humble gesture bear false witness 
for his true meaning, that he found not only soldiery, but people 
weary of his government, and all their affection bent upon Plangus ; 
both he and the queen concurring in strange dreams, and each 
thing else, that in a mind already perplexed might breed astonish- 
ment : so that within a while, all Plangus's actions began to be 
translated into the language of suspicion. Which though Plangus 
found, yet could he not avoid, even contraries being driven to 
draw one yoke of argument. If he were magnificent, he spent 
much with an aspiring intent, if he spared, he heaped much with 
an aspiring intent ; if he spoke courteously, he angled the people's 

204 ARCADIA [book n. 

hearts ; if he were silent, he mused upon some dangerous plot. In 
sum, if he could have turned himself to as many forms as Proteus, 
every form should have been made hideous. 

"But so it fell out, that a mere trifle gave them occasion of 
further proceeding. The king one morning, going to a vineyard 
that lay along the hill whereupon his castle stood : he saw a vine- 
labourer, that finding a bough broken, took a branch of the same 
bough for want of another thing and tied it about the place broken. 
The king asking the fellow what he did, 'Marry,' said he, 'I 
make the son bind the father." This word, finding the king 
already superstitious through suspicion, amazed him straight, as 
a presage of his own fortune, so that, returning and breaking with 
his wife how much he misdoubted his estate ; she made such gain- 
saying answers as while they strove, strove to be overcome. But 
even while the doubts most boiled, she thus nourished them. 

" She under-hand dealt with the principal men of that country, 
that at the great parliament, which was then to be held, they should 
in the name of all the estates persuade the king, being now 
stepped deeply into old age, to make Plangus his associate in 
government with him, assuring them that not only she would join 
with them, but that the father himself would take it kindly, charging 
them not to acquaint Plangus withal, for that perhaps it might be 
harmful unto him, if the king should find that he were a party. 
They (who thought they might do it, not only willingly, because 
they loved him ; and truly, because such indeed was the mind of 
the people ; but safely, because she who ruled the king, was agreed 
thereto) accomplished her counsel ; she indeed keeping promise of 
vehement persuading the same : which the more she and they did, 
the more she knew her husband would fear, and hate the cause of 
his fear, Plangus found this, and humbly protested against such 
desire or will to accept. But the more he protested, the more his 
father thought he dissembled, accounting his integrity to be but a 
cunning face of falsehood : and therefore delaying the desire of his 
subjects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands upon his son, 
which his wife brought thus to pass. 

" She caused the same minister of hers to go unto Plangus, and, 
enabling his words with great show of faith, and endearing them 
with desire of secrecy, to tell him, that he found his ruin conspired 
by his stepmother, with certain of the noblemen of that country, 
the king himself giving his consent, and that few days should pass 
before the putting it in practice ; withal discovering the very truth 
indeed, with what cunning his step-mother had proceeded. This 
agreeing with Plangus his own opinion, made him give the better 
credit ; yet not so far, as to fly out of his country, according to 
the naughty fellow's persuasion, but to attend, and to see farther. 


Whereupon the fellow, by the direction of his mistress, told him 
one day, that the same night, about one of the clock, the king had 
appointed to have his wife, and those noblemen together to 
deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus, and 
therefore offered him, that if himself would agree, he would bring 
him into a place where he should hear all that passed and so have 
the more reason both to himself and to the world, to seek his 
safety. The poor Plangus, being subject to that only disadvantage 
of honest hearts, credulity, was persuaded by him ; and arming 
himself, because of his late going, was closely conveyed into the 
place appointed. In the meantime, his step-mother, making all 
her gestures cunningly counterfeit a miserable affliction, she lay 
almost grovelling on the floor of her chamber, not suffering any- 
body to comfort her, until they calling for her husband, and he 
held off with long enquiry, at length she told him, even almost 
crying out of every word, that she was weary of her life, since she 
was brought to that plunge, either to conceal her husband's murder, 
or accuse her son, who had ever been more dear than a son unto 
her. Then with many interruptions and exclamations she told 
him, that her son Plangus, soliciting her in the old affection between 
them, had besought her to put to her helping hand to the death of 
the king, assuring her that, though all the laws in the world were 
against it, he would marry her when he were king. 

" She had not fully said thus much, with many pitiful digressions, 
when ia comes the same fellow that brought Plangus : and running 
himself out of breath, fell at the king's feet, beseeching him to save 
himself, for that there was a man with a sword drawn in the next 
room. The king affrighted, went out, and called his guard, who 
entering the place, found indeed Plangus with his sword in his 
hand, but not naked, yet standing suspiciously enough to one 
already suspicious. The king, thinking he had put up his sword 
because of the noise, never took leisure to hear his answer, but 
made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death 
in the market-place. 

" But the day had no sooner opened the eyes and ears of his 
friends and followers, but that there was a little army of them who 
came, and by force delivered him ; although numbers on the other 
side, abused with the fine framing of their report, took arms for 
the king. But Plangus, though he might have used the force of 
his friends to revenge his wrong, and get the crown, yet the natural 
love of his father, and hate to make their suspicion seem just, 
caused him rather to choose a voluntary exile than to make his 
father's death the. purchase of his life : and therefore went he to 
Tiridates, whose mother was his father's sister, living in his court 
eleven or twelve years, ever hoping by his intercession, and his 

2o6 ARCADIA [book n. 

own desert, to recover his father's grace. At the end of which 
time, the war of Erona happened, which my sister, with the cause 
thereof, discoursed unto you. 

" But his father had so deeply engraven the suspicion in his 
heart that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearful guilti- 
ness than of an humble faithfulness, and therefore continued his 
hate with such vehemency that he did even hate his nephew 
Tiridates, and afterwards his niece Artaxia, because in his court 
he received countenance, leaving no means unattempted of destroy- 
ing his son ; among other, employing that wicked servant of his, 
who undertook to empoison him. But his cunning disguised him 
not so well but that the watchful servants of Plangus did discover 
him, whereupon the wretch was taken, and, before his well- 
deserved execution, by tortures forced to confess the particularities 
of this, which in general I have told you. 

"Which confession authentically set down, though Tiridates 
with solemn embassage sent to the king, wrought no effect. For 
the king having put the reins of the government into his wife's 
hand, never did so much as read it, but sent it straight by her to 
be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred on Plangus, 
for the death of their servant. And now finding, that his absence, 
and their reports, had much diminished the wavering people's 
affection towards Plangus, with advancing fit persons for faction, 
and granting great immunities to the commons, they prevailed so 
far as to cause the son of the second wife, called Palladius, to be 
proclaimed successor, and Plangus quite excluded : so that Plangus 
was driven to continue his serving Tiridates, as he did in the war 
against Erona, and brought home Artaxia, as my sister told you ; 
when Erona by the treason of Antiphilus " 

But at that word she stopped. For Basilius, not able longer to 
abide their absence, came suddenly among them, and with smiling 
countenance, telling Zelmane he was afraid she had stolen away 
his daughters, invited them to follow the sun's counsel in going 
then to their lodging, for indeed the sun was ready to set. They 
yielded, Zelmane meaning some other time to understand the story 
of Antiphilus's treason, and Erona's danger, whose cause she 
greatly tendered. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but as 
spitefully as her rotten voice could utter, she set forth the sauciness 
of Amphailus, But Basilius only attended what Zelmane's opinion 
was, who though she hated Amphialus, yet the nobihty of her 
courage prevailed over it, and she desired he might be pardoned 
that youthful error, considering the reputation he had to be one of 
the best knights in the world ; so as hereafter he governed himself, 
as one remembering his fault. Basilius giving the infinite terms of 
praises to Zelmane's both valour in conquering, and pitifulness in 


pardoning, commanded no more words to be made of it, since such 
he thought was her pleasure. 

So brought he them up to visit his wife, where, between her and 
him, the poor Zelmane received a tedious entertainment ; oppressed 
with being loved, almost as much, as with loving. Basilius not so 
wise in covering his passion, could make his tongue go almost no 
other pace, but to run into those immoderate praises which the 
fooUsh lover thinks short of his mistress, though they reach far 
beyond the heavens. But Gynecia, whom womanly modesty did 
more outwardly bridle, yet did sometimes use the advantage of her 
sex in kissing Zelmane, as she sat upon her bed-side by her, which 
was but still more and more sweet incense to cast upon the fire 
wherein her heart was sacrificed. Once Zelmane could not stir, 
but that, as if they had been poppets, whose motion stood only 
upon her pleasure, Basilius with serviceable steps, Gynecia with 
greedy eyes, would follow her. Basilius's mind Gynecia well knew, 
and could have found in her heart to laugh at, if mirth could have 
born any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynecia's actions 
were interpreted by Basilius, as proceeding from jealously of his 
amorousness. Zelmane betwixt both, like the poor child, whose 
father, while he beats him, will make him believe it is for love ; or 
like the sick man, to whom the physician swears the ill tasting 
wallowish medicine he proffers is of a good taste : their love was 
hateful, their courtesy, troublesome, their presence cause of her 
absence thence, where not only her light, but her life consisted. 
Alas ! thought she to herself, dear Dorus, what odds is there 
between thy destiny and mine ? For thou hast to do, in thy pursuit 
but with shepherdish folks, who trouble thee with a little envious 
care, and affected diligence ; but I, besides that I have now Miso, 
the worst of thy devils, let loose upon me, am waited on by princes, 
and watched by the two wakeful eyes of love and jealousy. Alas ! 
incomparable Philoclea, thou ever seest me, but dost never see me 
as I am : thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not 
say that which were most fit for thee to hear. Alas ! who ever but 
I was imprisoned in liberty, and banished being still present ? to 
whom but me have lovers been jailors, and honour a captivity ? 

But the night coming on with her silent steps upon them, they 
parted each from other, if at least they could be parted, of whom 
every one did live in another, and went about to flatter sleep in 
their beds, that disdained to bestow itself liberally upon such eyes, 
which by their will would ever be looking, and in least measure 
upon Gynecia. Who, when Basilius after long tossing was gotten 
asleep, and the cheerful comfort of the lights removed from her, 
kneeling up in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swollen heart, 
to renew the curses of her birth ; and then in a manner embracing 

2o8 ARCADIA [book n. 

her bed : " Ah chastest bed of mine,'' said she, " which never 
heretofore could'st accuse me of one defiled thought, how can'st 
thou now receive this disastered changling ? happy, happy, be they 
only which be not ; and thy blessedness only in this respect thou 
mayest feel that thou hast no feeling." With that she furiously 
tore off great part of her fair hair : " Take care, O forgotten virtue," 
said she, " this miserable sacrifice ; while my soul was clothed 
with modesty, that was a comely ornament : now why should 
nature crown that head, which is so wicked, as her only desire is 
she cannot be enough wicked?" more she would have said, but 
that Basilius, awaked with the noise, took her in his arms, and 
began to comfort her, the good man thinking it was all for a 
jealous love of him, which humour if she would a little have main- 
tained, perchance it might have weakened his new conceived 
fancies. But he, finding her answers wandering from the purpose, 
left her to herself (glad the next morning to take the advantage of 
a sleep, which a little before day overwatched with sorrow, her 
tears had as it were sealed up in her eyes) to have the more conference 
with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by those two lovers, and 
ever kept from any mean to declare herself, found in herself a daily 
increase of her violent desires ; like a river, the more swelling, the 
more his current is stopped. 

The chief recreation she could find in her anguish, was some- 
time to visit that place, where first she was so happy as to see the 
cause of her unhap. There would she kiss the ground, and thank 
the trees, bless the air, and do dutiful reverence to everything that 
she thought did accompany her at their first meeting : then return 
again to her inward thoughts ; sometimes despair darkening all her 
imaginations, sometimes the active passion of love cheering and 
clearing her invention, how to unbar that cumbersome hindranc-e 
of her two ill-matched lovers. But this morning Basilius himself 
gave her good occasion to go beyond them. For having combed 
and tricked himself more curiously than any time forty winters 
before, coming where Zelmane was, he found her given over to her 
musical muses, to the great pleasure of good old Basilius, who 
retired himself behind a tree, while she with a most sweet voice 
did utter those passionate verses. 

Loved I am, and yet complain of love : 

As loving not, accus'd in love I die. 
When pity most I crave, I cruel prove : 

Still seeking love, love found, as much I fly. 
Burnt in myself, I muse at others fire ; 

What I call wrong, I do the same and more ; 
Barr'd of my will, I have beyond desire ; 

I wail for want, and yet am chok'd with store. 


This is thy work, thou god for ever blind : 
Though thousands old, a boy entitled still. 
T iius children do the silly birds they find, 

With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill. 

Yet thus much love, O love, I crave of thee : 

Let me be lov'd, or else not loved be. 

Basilius made no great haste from beyond the trees, till he 
perceived she had fully ended her music. But then loth to lose 
the precious fruit of time, he presented himself unto her, falling 
down upon both his knees, and holding up his hands, as the old 
governess of Danae is painted, when she suddenly saw the golden 
shower, " O "heavenly woman, or earthly goddess," said he, " let 
not my presence be odious unto you, nor my humble suit seem of 
small weight in your ears. Vouchsafe your eyes to descend upon 
this miserable old man, whose life hath hitherto been maintained 
but to serve as an increase of your beautiful triumphs. You only 
have overthrown me, and in my bondage consists my glory. 
Suffer not your own work to be despised of you, but look upon him 
with pity, whose life serves for your praise." Zelmane, keeping a 
countenance ascances she understood him not, told him it became 
her evil to suffer such excessive reverence of him, but that it worse 
became her to correct him, to whom she owed duty ; that the 
opinion she had of his wisdom was such as made her esteem greatly 
of his words ; but that the words themselves sounded so, that she 
could not imagine what they might intend. " Intend," said 
Basilius, proud that that was brought in question, " what may they 
intend but a refreshing of my soul, and assuaging of my heart, and 
enjoying those your excellencies, wherein my life is upheld, and 
my death threatened ? " Zelmane lifting up her face as if she had 
received a mortal injury of him, "and is this the devotion your 
ceremonies have been bent to ? " said she : " is it the disdain of my 
estate, or the opinion of my lightness that have emboldened such 
base fancies towards me ? enjoying quoth you ? now little joy come 
to them that yield to such enjoying." 

Poor Basilius was so appalled that his legs bowed under him ; 
his eyes looked as though he would gladly hide himself, and his 
old blood going to his heart, a general shaking all over his body 
possessed him. At length, with a wan mouth, he was about to 
give a stammering answer, when it came into Zelmane's head by 
this device, to make her profit of his folly ; and therefore with a 
relented countenance, thus said unto him, "Your words, mighty 
Prince, were unfit either for me to hear, or you to speak, but yet 
the large testimony I see of your affection makes me wiUing to 
suppress a great number of errors. Only thus much I think good 



to say, that the same words in my lady Philoclea's mouth, as from 
one woman to another, so as there were no other body by, might 
have had a better grace, and perchance have found a gentler 

Basilius, whose senses by desire were held open, and conceit 
was by love quickened, heard scarcely half her answer out, but 
that, as if speedy flight might save his life, he turned away, and ran 
with all the speed his body would suffer him towards his daughter 
Philoclea, whom he found at that time dutifully watching by her 
mother, and Miso curiously watching her, having left Mopsa to do 
the like service to Pamela. Basilius forthwith calling Philoclea 
aside, with all the conjuring words which desire could indite and 
authority utter, besought her she would preserve his life, in whom 
her life was begun, she would save his grey hairs from rebuke, and 
his aged mind from despair ; that if she were not cloyed with his 
company, and that she thought not the earth over-burdened with 
him, she would cool his fiery grief, which was to be done but by 
her breath : that in fine, whatsoever he was, he was nothing but 
what it pleased Zelmane ; all the powers of his spirit depending of 
her, that if she continued cruel he could no more sustain his life 
than the earth remain fruitful in the sun's continual absence. He 
concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts ; and 
that she needed not to disdain any service, though never so mean, 
which was warranted by the sacred name of father. Philoclea 
more glad than ever she had known herself that she might, by this 
occasion, enjoy the private conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweet 
a feeling of virtue in her mind, that she would not suffer a vile 
colour to be cast over fair thoughts, but with humble grace 
answered her father : that there needed neither promise nor 
persuasion to her, to make her do her uttermost for her father's 
service ; that for Zelmane's favour, she would in all virtuous sort 
seek it towards him : and that as she would not pierce farther into 
his meaning, than himself should declare, so would she interpret 
all his doings to be accomplished in goodness : and therefore 
desired, if otherwise it were, that he would not impart it to her, 
who then should be forced to begin, by true obedience, a show of 
disobedience : rather performing his general commandment, which 
had ever been to embrace virtue than any new particular sprung 
out of passion, and contrary to the former. Basilius content to 
take that, since he could have no more, thinking it a great point, 
if, by her means, he could get but a more free access unto Zelmane, 
allowed her reasons, and took her proffer thankfully, desiring only 
a speedy return of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Miso 
straight behind her, like Alecto following Proserpina. But 
Basilius forced her to stay, though with much ado, she being 


sharp set upon the fulfilling of a shrewd office in over-looking 
Philoclea ; and said to Basilius that she did as she was com- 
manded, and could not answer it to Gynecia, if she were any whit 
from Philoclea, telling him true, that he did evil to take her charge 
from her. But Basilius, swearing he would put out her eyes, if she 
stirred a foot to trouble his daughter, gave her a stop for that 

So away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her 
travailing mind : for well she saw her father was grown her adverse 
party, and yet her fortune such, as she must favour her rival ; 
and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither that did hurt her, 
nor any contrary mean help her. 

But she walked but a little on, before she saw Zelmane lying 
upon a bank, with her face so bent over Ladon, that, her tears 
faUing into the water, one might have thought that she began 
meltingly to be metamorphosed to the under-running river. But 
by and by with speech she made known, as well that she lived, as 
that she sorrowed. " Fair streams," said she, " that do vouchsafe 
in your clearness to represent unto me, my blubbered face, let the 
tribute offer of my tears unto you, procure your stay a while with 
me, that I may begin yet at last to find something that pities me ; 
and that all things of comfort and pleasure do not fly away from me. 
But if the violence of your spring command you to haste away, to 
pay your duties to your great prince, the sea, yet carry with you 
those few words, and let the uttermost ends of the world know 
them. A love more clear than yourselves, dedicated to a love, I 
fear, more cold than yourselves, with the clearness lays a night of 
sorrow upon me, and with the coldness inflames a world of fire 
within me." With that she took a willow stick, and wrote in a 
sandy bank those few verses. 

Over those brooks trusting to ease mine eyes, 
(Mine eyes even great in labour with their tears) 

I laid my face ; my face ev'n wherein lies 

Clusters of clouds, which no sun ever clears. 
In watery glass my watery eyes I see ; 
Sorrows ill eas'd, where sorrows painted be. 

My thoughts imprison'd in my secret woes, 
With flamy breath do issue oft in sound, 
The sound of this strange air no sooner goes, 
But that it does with Echoes force rebound ; 
And make me hear the plaints I would refrain : 
Thus outwards helps my inward grief maintain. 


Now in this sand I would discharge my mind, 

And cast from me part of my burd'nous cares : 
But in the sand my tales foretold I find, 
And see therein how well the writer fares. 

Since, stream, air, sand, mine eyes and ears conspire : 
What hope to quench, where each thing blows the fire ? 

And as soon as she had written them, a new swarm of thoughts 
stinging her mind, she was ready with her feet to give the new- 
born letters both death and burial. But Philoclea, whose delight 
of hearing and seeing was before a stay from interrupting her, 
gave herself to be seen unto her, with such a lightening beauty 
upon Zelmane, that neither she could look on, nor would look off. 
At last Philoclea, having a little mused how to cut the thread even 
between her own hopeless affection and her father's unbridled hope, 
with eyes, cheeks, and lips, whereof each sang their part to make 
up the harmony of bashfulness, began to say, " My father, to whom 
I owe myself ; " and therefore when Zelmane (making a womanish 
habit to be the armour of her boldness, giving up her life to the 
lips of Philoclea, and taking it again by the sweetness of those 
kisses) humbly besought her to keep her speech for a while within 
the paradise of her mind. For well she knew her father's errand, who 
should soon receive a sufficient answer. But now she demanded 
leave not to lose this long sought-for commodity of time, 
to ease her heart thus far, that if in her agonies her destiny was to 
be condemned by Philoclea's mouth ; at least Philoclea might 
know, whom she had condemned. Philoclea easily yielded to 
grant her own desire, and so making the green bank the situation, 
and the river the prospect of the most beautiful buildings of nature, 
Zelmane doubting how to begin, though her thoughts already had 
run to the end, with a mind fearing the unworthiness of every word 
that should be presented to her ears, at length brought it forth in 
this manner. 

" Most beloved lady, the incomparable excellencies of yourself, 
waited on by the greatness of your estate, and the importance 
of the thing whereon my life consisted, doth require both many 
ceremonies before the beginning, and many circumstances in the 
uttering my speech, both bold and fearful. But the small oppor- 
tunity of envious occasion, by the malicious eye hateful love doth 
cast upon me, and the extreme bent of my affection, which will 
either break out in words, or break my heart, compel me not only 
to embrace the smallest time, but to pass by the respects due unto 
you, in respect of your poor caitiffs life, who is now, or never to be 
preserved. I do therefore vow unto you, hereafter never more to 
omit all dutiful form, do you only now vouchsafe to hear the matter 


of a mind most perplexed, if ever the sound of love have come 
to your ears, or if ever you have understood what force it hath had 
to conquer the strongest hearts and change the most settled estates, 
receive here an example of those strange tragedies ; one, that in 
himself containeth the particularities of all those misfortunes, and 
from henceforth believe that such a thing may be, since you shall 
see it is. You shall see, I say, a living image, and a present story 
of what love can do when he is bent to ruin. 

" But alas ! whither goest thou my tongue ? or how doth my heart 
consent to adventure the revealing his nearest touching secret? 
but peace fear, thou comest too late, when already the harm is 
taken. Therefore I say again, O only princess attend here a 
miserable miracle of affection. Behold here before your eyes 
Pyrocles, prince of Macedon, whom you only have brought to this 
game of fortune, and unused Metamorphosis, whom you only have 
made neglect his country, forget his father, and lastly forsaloe to be 
Pyrocles : the same Pyrocles who, you heard, was betrayed by 
being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. 
O most true presage 1 for these traitors, my eyes, putting me into 
a ship of desire, which daily burneth, those eyes, I say, which 
betrayed me, will never leave till they have drowned me. But be 
not, be not, most excellent lady, you that, nature hath made to be 
the load-star of comfort, be not the rock of shipwreck : you whom 
virtue hath made the princess of felicity, be not the minister of 
ruin : you whom my choice hath made the goddess of my safety. 
O let not, let not, from you be poured upon me destruction ; your fair 
face hath many tokens in it of amazement at my words : think then 
what his amazement is, from whence they come, since no words 
can carry with them the life of the inward feeling, I desire that my 
desire may be weighed in the balances of honour, and let virtue 
hold them. For if the highest love in no base person may aspire 
to grace, then may I hope your beauty will not be without pity, if 
otherwise you be, alas ! but let it not be so resolved, yet shall not 
my death be comfortless, receiving it by your sentence." 

The joy which wrought into Pygmalion's mind, while he found his 
beloved image was softer and warmer in his folded arms, till at 
length it accomplished his gladness with a perfect woman's shape, 
still beautified with the former perfections, was even such, as by 
each degree of Zelmane!s words creepingly entered into Philoclea, 
till her pleasure was fully made up with the manifesting of his being, 
which was such as in hope did overcome hope. Yet doubt would 
fain have played his part in her mind and called in question, how 
she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But love 
straight stood up and deposed that a he could not come from the 
mouth of Zelmane. Besides, a certain spark of honour, which rose 

214 ARCADIA [book n. 

in her well disposed mind, made her fear to be alone with him, 
with whom alone she desired to be, withal the other contradictions 
growing in those minds, which neither absolutely climb the rock of 
virtue, nor freely sink into the sea of vanity, but that spark soon 
gave place, or at least gave no more light in her mind than a 
candle doth in the sun's presence. But even sick with a surfeit of 
joy, and fearful of she knew not what, as he that newly finds huge 
treasures, doubts whether he sleep or no ; or Uke a fearful deer, 
which then looks most about when he comes to the best feed, with 
a shrugging kind of tremor through all her principal parts, she 
gave those affectionate words for answer. 

"Alas ! how painful a thing it is to a divided mind to make a 
well-joined answer ? how hard it is to bring inward shame to out- 
ward confession? and what handsomeness, trow you, can be 
observed in that speech which is made one knows not to whom ? 
Shall I say, O Zelmane ? alas ! your words be against it. Shall I 
say Prince Pyrocles ? wretch that I am, your show is manifest against 
it. But this, this I may well say ; if I had continued as I ought, 
Philoclea, you had either never been, or ever been Zelmane : you 
had either never attempted this change, set on with hope, or never 
discovered it, stopped with despair. But I fear me, my behaviour 
ill governed, gave you the first comfort ; I fear me, my affection ill 
hid, hath given you this last assurance : I fear indeed, the weak- 
ness of my government before, made you think such a mask would 
be grateful unto me ; and my weaker government since makes you 
pull off the visor. What should I do then ? shall I seek far-fetched 
inventions? shall I labour to lay marble colours over my ruinous 
thoughts ? or rather, though the pureness of my virgin mind be 
stained, let me keep the true simplicity of my word. True it is, 
alas ! too true it is, O Zelmane, for so I love to call thee, since in 
that name my love first began, and in the shade of that name my 
love shall best lie hidden, that even while so thou wert, what eye 
bewitched me I know not, my passions were fitter to desire than to 
be desired. Shall I say then, I am sorry, or that my love must be 
turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles ? How may that 
well be ? since when thou wert Zelmane, the despair thou mightest 
not be thus did most torment me. Thou hast then the victory, 
use it with virtue. Thy virtue won me ; with virtue preserve me. 
Dost thou love me ? keep me then still worthy to be loved." 

Then held she her tongue, and cast down a self-accusing look, 
finding that in herself she had, as it were, shot out of the bow of 
her affection, a more quick opening of her mind than she minded 
to have done. But Pyrocles so carried up with joy that he did 
not envy the god's felicity, presented her with some jewels of right 
princely value, as some little tokens of his love and quality : and 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 215 

withal showed her letters from his father King Euarchus, unto 
him, which even in the sea had amongst his jewels been preserved. 
But little needed those proofs to one, who would have fallen out 
with herself rather than make any contrary conjectures to Zelmane's 
speeches ; so that with such embracements, as it seemed their souls 
desired to meet, and their hearts to kiss as their mouths did, they 
passed the promise of marriage, which fain Pyrocles would have 
sealed with the chief arms of his desire, but Philoclea commanded 
the contrary. 

And then at Philoclea's entreaty, who was willing to purloin all 
occasions of remaining with Zelmane, she told her the story 
of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona ; for the 
rest she had already understood of her sister. " For," said she, 
" I have understood how you first, in the company of your noble 
cousin Musidorus, parted from Thessalia, and of divers adventures, 
which with no more danger than glory you passed through, till 
your coming to the succour of the queen Erona ; and the end of 
that war, you might perceive by myself, I had understood of prince 
Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, until 
you came, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poor 
me, that I know not ; the fame thereof having rather showed it 
by pieces, than delivered any full form of it. Therefore, dear 
Pyrocles, for what can my ears be so sweetly fed with, as to hear 
you of you, be liberal unto me of those things which have made 
you indeed precious to the world ; and now doubt not to tell of 
your perils, for since I have you here out of them, even the 
remembrance of them is pleasant." 

Pyrocles easily perceived she was content with kindness to put 
off occasion of farther kindness, wherein love showed himself 
a cowardly boy that durst not attend for fear of offending. But 
rather love proved himself valiant, that durst with the sword of 
reverent duty gain-stand the force of so many enraged desires. 
But so it was, that though he knew this discourse was to entertain 
him from a more straight parley, yet he durst not but kiss his 
rod, and gladly make much of that entertainment which she 
allotted unto him : and therefore with a desirous sigh chastening 
his breast for too much desiring, " Sweet princess of my life," said 
he, " what trophies, what triumph, what monuments, what histories 
might ever make my fame yield so sweet a music to my ears, as 
that it pleaseth you to lend your mind to the knowledge of any 
thing touching Pyrocles, only therefore of value, because he is 
your Pyrocles ? and therefore grow I now so proud as to think it 
worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to give it the hearing. 
Therefore only height of my hope, vouchsafe to know, that after 
the death of Tiridates, and settling Erona in her government, for 

2i6 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

settled we left her ; howsoever since, as I perceived by your speech 
the last day, the ungrateful treason of her ill-chosen husband 
overthrew her, a thing, in truth, never till this time by me either 
heard, or suspected : for who could think, without having such 
a mind as Antiphilus, that so great a beauty as Erona's, indeed 
excellent, could not have held his affection ? so great goodness 
could not have bound gratefulness? and so high advancement 
could not have satisfied his ambition? but therefore true it is, 
that wickedness may well be compared to a bottomless pit, into 
which it is far easier to keep one's self from falling than being 
fallen, to give one's self any stay from falling infinitely. But for 
my cousin and me, upon this cause we parted from Erona. 

"Euardus, the brave and mighty prince, whom it was my 
fortune to kill in the combat for Erona, had three nephews, sons 
to a sister of his ; all three set among the foremost ranks of fame 
for great minds to attempt, and great force to perform what they 
did attempt, especially the eldest, by name Anaxius, to whom all 
men would willingly have yielded the height of praise, but that his 
nature was such as to bestow it upon himself before any could give 
it. For of so unsupportable a pride he was, that where his deeds 
might well stir envy, his demeanour did rather breed disdain. And 
if it be true that the giants ever made war against heaven, he had 
been a fit ensign-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed 
hard to him, though impossible ; and nothing unjust, while his 
liking was his justice. Now he in these wars had flatly refused 
his aid, because he could not brook that the worthy prince Plangus 
was by his cousin Tiridates preferred before him. For allowing 
no other weights but the sword and spear in judging of desert, 
how much he esteemed himself before Plangus in that, so much 
would he have had his allowance in his service. 

" But now that he understood that his uncle was slain by me, 
I think rather scorn that any should kill his uncle, than any 
kindness, an unused guest to an arrogant soul, made him seek his 
revenge, I must confess in manner gallant enough. For he sent 
a challenge unto me to meet him at a place appionted, in the 
confines of the kingdom of Lycia, where he would prove upon me, 
that I had by some treachery overcome his uncle, whom else many 
hundreds such as I, could not have withstood. Youth and success 
made me willing enough to accept any such bargain, especially 
because I had heard that your cousin Amphialus, who for some 
years hath borne universally the name of the best knight in the 
world, had divers times fought with him, and never been able to 
master him, but so had left him, that every man thought Anaxius 
in that one virtue of courtesy far short of him, in all other his 
match ; Anaxius still deeming himself for his superior. Therefore 


to him I would go, and I would needs go alone, because so I 
understood for certain, he was ; and, I must confess, desirous to 
do something without the company of the incomparable prince 
Musidorus, because in my heart I acknowledge that I owed more 
to his presence than to anything in myself, whatever before I had 
done. For of him indeed, as of any worldly cause, I must grant, 
as received, whatever there is or may be good in me. He taught 
me by word, and best by example, giving me in him so lively an 
image of virtue, that ignorance could not cast such a mist over 
mine eyes, as not to see, and to love it j and all with such dear 
friendship and care, as, O heaven, how can my life ever requite 
to him ? which made me indeed find in myself such a kind of 
depending upon him, as without him I found a weakness, and 
a mistrustfulness of myself, as one stayed from his best strength, 
when at any time I missed him. Which humour perceiving to 
over-rule me, I strove against it : not that I was unwiUing to 
depend upon him in judgment, but by weakness I would not ; 
which though it held me to him, made me unworthy of him. 
Therefore I desired his leave and obtained it, such confidence he 
had in me, preferring my reputation before his own tenderness, 
and so privately went from him, he determining, as after I knew, 
in secret manner, not to be far from the place where we appointed 
to meet, to prevent any foul play that might be offered unto me. 
Full loth was Erona to let us depart from her, as it were, fore- 
feeling the harms which after fell to her. But I, rid fully from 
those cumbers of kindness, and half a day's journey in my way 
towards Anaxius, met an adventure, which, though in itself of 
small importance, I will tell you at large, because by the occasion 
thereof I was brought to as great cumber and danger, as lightly 
any might escape. 

" As I passed through a land, each side whereof was so bordered 
both with high timber trees, and copses of far more humble growth, 
that it might easily bring a solitary mind to look for no other 
companions than the wild- burgesses of the forest, I heard certain 
cries, which, coming by pauses to mine ears from within the wood 
of the right hand, made me well assured by the greatness of the 
cry, it was the voice of a man, though it were a very unmanlike 
voice, so to cry. But making mine ears my guide, I left not many 
trees behind me before I saw at the bottom of one of them a 
gentleman, bound with many garters hand and foot, so as well he 
might tumble and toss, but neither run nor resist he could. Upon 
him, like so many eagles upon an ox, were nine gentlewomen, 
truly such as one might well enough say, they were handsome. 
Each of them held bodkins in their hands, wherewith continually 
they pricked him, having been before hand unarmed of any defence 


from the waist upward, but only of his shirt : so as the poor man 
wept and bled, cried and prayed while they sported themselves in 
his pain, and delighted in his prayers as the arguments of their 

" I was moved to compassion, and so much the more that he 
straight called to me for succour, desiring me at least to kill him, 
to deliver him from those tormentors. But before myself could 
resolve, much less any other tell what I would resolve, there came 
in choleric haste towards me about seven or eight knights, the 
foremost of which, willed me to get away, and not to trouble the 
ladies while they were taking their due revenge; but with so 
over-mastering a manner of pride, as truly my heart could not 
brook it ; and therefore, answering them, that how I would have 
defended him from the ladies I knew not, but from them I would, 
I began to combat first with him particularly, and after his death 
with the others that had less good manners, jointly. But such was 
the end of it, that I kept the field with the death of some, and 
flight of others. Insomuch as the women, afraid, what angry 
victory would bring forth, ran all away, saving only one, who was 
so fleshed in malice that neither during, nor after the fight, she 
gave any truce to her cruelty, but still used the little instrument 
of her great spite, to the well witnessed pain of the impatient 
patient : and was now about to put out his eyes, which all this 
while were spared, because they should do him the discomfort of 
seeing who prevailed over him. When I came in, and after much 
ado brought her to some conference, for some time it was before she 
would hearken, more before she would speak, and most before she 
would in her speech leave off the sharp remembrance of her 
bodkin, but at length when I pulled off my head-piece, and 
humbly entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruel, 
out of breath more with choler, which increased in his own exercise, 
than with the pain she took, much to this purpose, she gave her 
grief unto my knowledge. 

" ' Gentlemen,' said she, ' much it is against my will to forbear 
any time the executing of my just revenge upon this naughty 
creature, a man in nothing but in deceiving women. But because 
I see you are young, and like enough to have the power, if you 
would have the mind, to do much more mischief than he, I am 
content upon this bad subject to read a lecture to your virtue. 
This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confess is noble, but 
what is that to him, if it shall be a stain to his dead ancestors to 
have left such an off-spring, in shape as you see, not uncomely, 
indeed the fit mask of his disguised falsehood, in conversation 
wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome ; his eyes full of merry 
simplicity, his words, of hearty companionableness : and such an 


one, whose head one would not think so stayed as to think mis- 
chievously ; delighted in all such things, which by imparting the 
dehght to others, makes the user thereof welcome, as, music, 
dancing, hunting, feasting, riding, and such like. And to conclude, 
such an one, as who can keep him at arms-end, need never wish a 
better companion. But under these qualities lies such a poisonous 
adder^ as I will tell you. For by those gifts of nature and fortune, 
being in all places acceptable, he creeps, nay, to say, truly, he flies 
so into the favour of poor silly women, that I would be too much 
ashamed to confess, if I had not revenge in my hand as well as 
shame in 'my cheeks. For his heart being wholly delighted in 
deceiving us, we could never be warned, but rather one bird 
caught, served for a stale to bring in more. For the more he got, 
the more still he showed that he, as it were, gave way to his new 
mistress when he betrayed his promises to the former. The 
cunning of his flattery, the readiness of his tears, the infiniteness 
of his vows, were but among the weakest threads of his net. But 
the stirring our own passions, and by the entrance of them, to 
make himself lord of our forces, there lay his masters part of 
cunning, making us now jealous, now envious, now proud of what 
he had, desirous of more ; now giving one the triumph, to see 
him that was prince of many, subject to her ; now with an estranged 
look, making her fear the loss of that mind, which indeed could 
never be had : never ceasing humbleness and diligence, till he had 
embarked us in some such disadvantage that we could not return 
dry-shod ; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a crafty tyrant. For so 
would he use his imperiousness, that we had a delightful fear, and 
an awe, which made us loth to lose our hope. And, which is 
strangest, when sometimes with late repentance I think of it, I 
must confess, even in the greatest tempest of my judgment was I 
never driven to think him excellent ; and yet so could set my mind, 
both to get and keep him, as though therein had laid my felicity : 
like them I have seen play at the ball, grow extremely earnest, who 
should have the ball, and yet every one knew it was but a ball. 
But in the end the bitter farce of the sport was, that we had either 
our hearts broken with sorrow, or our estates spoiled with being at 
his direction, or our honours for ever lost, partly by our own faults, 
but principally by his faulty using of our faults. For never was 
there man that could with more scornful eyes behold her at whose 
feet he had lately lain, nor with a more unmanlike bravery use his 
tongue to her disgrace, which lately had sung sonnets of her praises, 
being so naturally inconstant, as I marvel his soul finds not some 
way to kill his body, whereto it had been so long united. For so hath 
he dealt with us, unhappy fools, as we could never tell whether he 
made greater haste after he once liked, to enjoy, or after he once 


enjoyed, to forsake. But making a glory of his own shame, it 
delighted him to be challenged of unkindness, it was a triumph to 
him to have his mercy called for : and he thought the fresh colours 
of his beauty were painted in nothing so well as in the ruins of his 
lovers : yet so far had we engaged ourselves, unfortunate souls, that 
we listed not complain, since our complaints could not but carry the 
greatest occasion to ourselves. But eveiy of us, each for herself, 
laboured all means how to recover him, while he rather daily sent us 
companions of our deceit, than ever returned in any sound and 
faithful manner. Till at length he concluded all his wrongs with 
betrothing himself to one, I must confess, worthy to be liked if any 
worthiness might excuse so unworthy a changeableness, leaving 
us nothing but remorse for what was past, and despair of what might 
follow. Then indeed the common injury made us all join in fellow- 
ship, who till that time had employed our endeavours one against 
the other, for we thought nothing was a more condemning of us, 
than the justifying of his love to her by marriage : then despair 
made fear valiant, and revenge gave shame countenance : where- 
upon, we, that you saw here, devised how to get him among us 
alone : which he, suspecting no such matter of them whom he had 
by often abuses, he thought made tame to be still abused, easily 
gave us opportunity to do. 

" ' And a man may see, even in this, how soon rulers grow proud, 
and in their pride foolish : he came with such an authority among 
us, as if the planets had done enough for us, that by us once he 
had been delighted. And when we began in courteous manner, one 
after the other, to lay his unkindness unto him, he, seeing himself 
confronted by so many, like a resolute orator, went not to denial, 
but to justify his cruel falsehood, and all with such jests and dis- 
dainful passages, that if the injury could not be made greater, yet 
were our conceits made the apter to apprehend it. 

" ' Among other of his answers, forsooth, I shall never forget, 
how he would prove it was no inconstancy to change from one love 
to another, but a great constancy, and contrary, that which we call 
constancy, to be most changeable. ' For,' said he, ' I ever loved 
my delight, and delighted always in what was lovely : and where- 
soever, I found occasion to obtain that, I constantly followed it. 
But these constant fools you speak of, though their mistress grow 
by sickness foul, or by fortune miserable, yet still will love her, 
and so commit the absurdest inconstancy that may be, in changing 
their love from fairness to foulness, and from loveliness to his 
contrary ; like one not content to leave a friend, but will straight 
give over himself, to his mortal enemy : where I, whom you call 
inconstant, am ever constant to beauty, in others, and delight myself.' 
' And so in this jolly scoffing bravery he went over us all, saying he 


left one, because she was over-wayward ; another, because she was 
too soon won ; a third, because she was not merry enough ; a 
fourth, because she was over gamesome ; the fifth, because she 
was grown with grief subject to sickness ; the sixth, because she 
was so foolish as to be jealous of him ; the seventh, because she 
had refused to carry a letter from him to another that he loved ; 
the eighth, because she was not secret ; the ninth, because she 
was not liberal : but to me, who am named Dido, and indeed have 
met with a false ^Eneas : to me I say, O the ungrateful villain, he 
could find no other fault to object, but that, perdy, he met with 
many fairer. 

" ' But when he had thus played the careless prince, we, having 
those servants of our's in readiness, whom you lately so manfully 
overcame, laid hold of him, beginning at first but that trifling 
revenge, in which you found us busy ; but meaning afterwards to 
have mangled him so as should have lost his credit for ever abusing 
more. But as you have made my fellows fly away, so for my part 
the greatness of his wrong overshadows, in my judgment, the 
greatness of any danger. For was it not enough for him to have 
deceived me, and through the deceit abused me, and after the 
abuse forsaken me, but that he must now, of all the company, and 
before all the company, lay want of beauty to my charge ? many 
fairer, I trow even in your judgment, sir, if your eyes do not 
beguile me, not many fairer ; and I know, whosoever says the 
contrary, there are not many fairer. And of whom should I receive 
this reproach, but of him who hath best cause to know there are 
not many fairer ? and therefore howsoever my fellows pardon his 
injuries, for my part I will ever remember, and remember to 
revenge his scorn of all scorns.' With that she to him afresh ; 
and surely would have put out his eyes, who lay mute for shame, it 
he did not sometimes cry for fear, if I had not leapt from my horse 
and mingling force with entreaty, stayed her fury. 

" But while I was persuading her to meekness, comes a number 
of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they should kill 
that woman, that had thus betrayed and disgraced him. But then 
I was fain to forsake the ensign under which I had before served, 
and to spend my uttermost force in the protecting of the lady : 
which so well prevailed for her, that in the end there was a faithful 
peace promised of all sides. And so I leaving her in a place of 
security, as she thought, went on my journey towards Anaxius, for 
whom I was forced to stay two days in the appointed place, he 
disdaining to wait for me, till he were sure I was there. 

" I did patiently abide his angry pleasure, till about that space 
of time he came, indeed, according to promise, alone : and that I 
may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much, like a 

222 ARCADIA , [BOOK 11. 

man whose courage is apt to climb over any danger. And as soon 
as ever he came near me, in fit distance for his purpose, he with 
much fury, but with fury skilfully guided, ran upon me, which I, 
in the best sort I could, resisted, having kept myself ready for him, 
because I had understood that he observed few compliments in 
matter of arms, but such as a proud anger did indite unto him. 
And so, putting our horses into a full career, we hit each other upon 
the head with our lances : I think he felt my blow ; for my part, 
I must confess, I never received the like : but I think, though my 
senses were astonished, my mind forced them to quicken themselves, 
because I had learned of him how little favour he is wont to show 
in any matter of advantage. And indeed he was turned and 
coming upon me with his sword draws, both our staves having 
been broken, at that encounter, but I was so ready to answer him, 
that truly I know not who gave the first blow. But whosoever 
gave the first, was quickly seconded by the second. And indeed, 
excellentest lady, I must say true, for a time it was well fought 
between us ; he undoubtedly being of singular valour, I would 
God, it were not abased by his too much loftiness : but as, by the 
occasion of the combat, winning and losing ground, we changed 
places, his horse, happened to come upon the point of the broken 
spear, which, fallen to the ground, chanced to stand upward, so as 
it lightning upon his heart the horse died. He driven to dismount, 
threatened, if I did not the like, to do as much for my horse as 
fortune had done for his. But whether for that, or because I 
would not be beholden to fortune for any part of the victory, I 
descended. So began our foot-fight in such sort, that we were well 
entered to blood on both sides, when there comes by that inconstant 
Pamphilus, whom I had delivered, easy to be known, for he was 
bare-faced, with a dozen armed men after him ; but before him he 
had Dido, that lady, who had most sharply punished him, riding 
upon a palfrey, he following her with most unmanlike cruelty, beating 
her with wands he had in his hand, she crying for sense of pain, or 
hope of succour : which was so pitiful a sight unto me, that it moved 
me to require Anaxius to defer our combat till another day, and 
now to perform the duties of knighthood in helping this distressed 
lady. But he that disdains to obey anything but his passion, which 
he calls his mind, bid me leave off that thought ; but when he had 
killed me, he would then perhaps, go to her succour. But I well 
finding the fight would be long between us, longing in my heart 
to deliver the poor Dido, giving him so great a blow as somewhat 
stayed him, to term it aright, I flatly ran away from him toward 
my horse, who trotting after the company in mine armour I was 
put to some pain, but that use made me nimble unto it. But as I 
followed my horse, Anaxius followed me ; but this proud heart did 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 223 

so disdain that exercise, that I quickly over-ran him, and overtaken 
my horse, being, I must confess, ashamed to see a number of 
country folks, who happened to pass thereby, who halloed and 
hooted after me, as at the arrantest coward that ever showed his 
shoulders to his enemy. But when I had leapt on my horse, with 
such speedy agiUty that they all cried ; ' O see how fear gives him 
wings,' I turned to Anaxius, and aloud promised him to return 
thither again as soon as I had relieved the injured lady. But he 
railing at me, with all the base words angry contempt could indite ; 
I said no more but 'Anaxius assure thyself, I neither fear thy 
force, nor thy opinion ; ' and so using no weapon of a knight at that 
time but my spurs, I ran in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in 
all their conceits from Anaxius, which as far as I could hear, I 
might well hear testified with such laughters and games, that I was 
some few times moved to turn back again. 

" But the lady's misery over-balanced my reputation, so that after 
her I went, and with six hours hard riding, through so wild places, 
as it was rather the cunning of my horse sometimes than of myself, 
so rightly to hit the way, I overgat them a little before night, near 
to an old ill-favoured castle, the place where I perceived they meant 
to perform their unknightly errand. For there they began to strip 
her of her clothes, when I came in among them, and running 
through the first with a lance, the justness of the cause so enabled 
me against the rest, false-hearted in their own wrong doing, that I 
had in as short time almost as I had been fighting with only 
Anaxius, delivered her from those injurious wretches, most of whom 
carried news to the other world, that amongst men secret wrongs 
are not always left unpunished. As for Pamphilus, he having once 
seen, and as it should seem, remembered me, even from the 
beginning began to be in the rearward, and before they had left 
fighting, he was too far off to give them thanks for their pains. But 
when I had dehvered to the lady a full liberty, both in effect and in 
opinion, for some time it was before she could assure herself she was 
out of their hands, who had laid so vehement apprehensions of death 
upon her, she then told me, how as she was returning towards her 
father's, weakly accompanied, as too soon trusting to the falsehood 
of reconcilement, Pamphilus had set upon her and, killing those that 
were with her, carried herself by such force, and with such manner 
as I had seen, to this place, where he meant in cruel and shameful 
manner to kill her, in the sight of her own father, to whom he had 
already sent word of it, that out of his castle window, for this castle, 
she said, was his, he might have the prospect of his only child's 
destruction in my coming, whom, she said, he feared as soon as he 
knew me by the armour, had not warranted her from that near 
approaching cruelty. I was glad I had done so good a deed for a 

224 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

gentlewoman not unhandsome, whom before I had in like sort 
helped. But the night beginning to persuade some retiring place, 
the gentlewoman, even out of countenance before she began her 
speech, much after this manner invited me to lodge that night with 
her father. 

"'Sir,' said she, 'how much I owe you, can be but abased by 
words, since the life I have, I hold it now the second time, of you : 
and therefore need not offer service unto you, but only to remember 
you, that I am your servant : and I would my being so, might any 
way yield any small contentment unto you. Now only I can but 
desire you to harbour yourself this night in this castle, because the 
time requires it, and in truth this country is very dangerous for 
murdering thieves, to trust a sleeping life among them. And yet I 
must confess that as the love I bear you makes me thus invite you, 
so the same love makes me ashamed to bring you to a place where 
you shall be so, not spoken by ceremony, but by truth, miserably 

" With that she told me, that though she spoke of her father, 
whom she named Chremes, she would hide no truth from me ; 
which was in sum, that he was of all that region the man of 
greatest possessions and riches, so was he either by nature, or an 
evil received opinion, given to sparing in so unmeasurable soit, 
that he did not only bar himself from the delightful, but almost 
from the necessary use thereof, scarcely allowing himself fit 
sustenance of life, rather than he would spend of those goods for 
whose sake only he seemed to joy in life. Which extreme dealing, 
descending from himself upon her, had driven her to put herself 
with a great lady of that country, by which occasion she had 
stumbled upon such mischances as were little for the honour 
either of her, or her family. But so wise had he showed himself 
therein, as while he found his daughter maintained without his 
cost, he was content to be deaf to any noise of infamy, which 
though it had wronged her much more than she deserved, yet she 
could not deny but she was driven thereby to receive more than 
decent favours. She concluded, that there at least I should be 
free from injuries, and should be assured to her-ward to abound as 
much in the true causes of welcomes, as I should find wants of the 
effects thereof. 

" I, who had acquainted myself to measure the delicacy of food 
and rest by hunger and weariness, at that time well stored of both, 
did not abide long entreaty, but went with her to the castle, which 
I found of good strength, having a great moat round about it, the 
work of a noble gentleman, of whose unthrifty son he had bought 
it ; the bridge drawn up, where we were fain to cry a good while 
before we could have answer, and to dispute a good while before 

BOOK ii.l ARCADIA 225 

answer would be brought to acceptance. At length a willingness, 
rather than a joy to receive his daughter whom he had lately seen 
so near death, and an opinion brought into his head by course, 
because he heard himself called father, rather than any kindness 
that he found in his own heart, made him take us in ; for my part 
by that time grown so weary of such entertainment that no regard 
of myself, but only the importunity of his daughter, made me enter. 
Where I was met with this Chremes, a driveling old fellow, lean, 
shaking both of head and hands, already half earth, and yet then 
most greedy of earth : who scarcely would give me thanks for 
what I had done, for fear, I suppose, that thankfulness might have 
an introduction of reward ; but with a hollow voice, giving me a 
false welcome, I might perceive in his eye to his daughter, that it 
was hard to say whether the displeasure of her company did not 
overweigh the pleasure of her own coming. But on he brought 
me into so bare a house, that it was the picture of miserable 
happiness, and rich beggary (served only by a company of rustical 
villains, full of sweat and dust, not one of them other than a 
labourer) in sum, as he counted it, profitable drudgery ; and all 
preparations both for food and lodging such as would make one 
detest niggardness, it is so sluttish a vice. His talk of nothing 
but of his poverty, for fear, belike, lest I should have proved 
a. young borrower. In sum, such a man, as any enemy would 
not wish him worse than to be himself. But there that night 
bid I the burden of being a tedious guest to a loathsome host ; 
over-hearing him sometimes bitterly warn his daughter of bringing 
such costly mates under his roof, which she grieved at, desired 
much to know my name, I think partly of kindness, to remember 
who had done something for her, and partly, because she assured 
herself I was such a one as would make even his miser-mind 
contented with that he had done. And accordingly, she demanded 
my name and estate, with such earnestness, that I, whom love had 
not as then so robbed me of myself, as to be other than I am, told 
her directly my name and condition : whereof she was no more 
glad than her father, as I might well perceive by some ill-favoured 
cheerfulness, which then first began to wrinkle itself in his face. 

" But the causes of their joys were far different ; for as the 
shepherd and the butcher both may look upon one sheep with 
pleasing conceits, but the shepherd with mind to profit himself by 
preserving, the butcher with killing him, so she rejoiced to find 
that mine own benefits had made me to be her friend, who was a 
prince of such greatness, and lovingly rejoiced. But his joy grew, 
as I to my danger after perceived, by the occasion of the queen 
Artaxia's setting my head to sale for having slain her brother 
Tiridates, which being the sum of an hundred thousand crowns, to 


226 ARCADIA - tBooKii. 

whosoever brought me alive into her hands, that old wretch, who 
had over-lived all good nature, though he had lying idly by him 
much more than that, yet above all things loving money, for 
money's own sake, determined to betray me, so well deserving of 
him, for to have that which he was determined never to use. And 
so knowing that the next morning I was resolved to go to the 
place where I had left Anaxius, he sent in all speed to a captain of 
a garrison near by, which though it belonged to the king of Iberia, 
yet knowing the captain's humour to delight so in riotous spending, 
that he cared not how he came by the means to maintain it, doubted 
not that to be half with him in the gain, he would play his quarter 
part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the 
fittest places where they might surprise me in the morning, the old 
caitiff was grown so ceremonious, that he would needs accompany 
me some miles in my way, a sufficient token to me, if nature had 
made me apt to suspect ; since a churl's courtesy rarely comes, 
but either for gain or falsehood. But I suffered him to stumble 
into that point of good manners : to which purpose he came out 
with all his clowns, horsed upon such cart-jades, and so furnished, 
as in good faith I thought with myself, if that were thrift, I wish 
none of my friends or subjects ever to thrive. As for his daughter, 
the gentle Dido, she would also, but in my conscience with a far 
better mind, prolong the time of farewell, as long as he. 

" And so we went on together : he so old in wickedness, that he 
could look me in the face, and freely talk with me, whose life he 
had already contracted for : till coming into the faUing of a way 
which led us into a place, of each side whereof men might easily 
keep themselves undiscovered, I was encompassed suddenly by a 
great troop of enemies, both of horse and foot, who willed me to 
yield myself to the queen Artaxia. But they could not have used 
worse eloquence to have persuaded my yielding than that ; I 
knowing the little goodwill Artaxia bare me. And therefore 
making necessity and justice my best sword and shield, I used the 
other weapons I had as well as I could ; I am sure to the litde 
ease of a good number, who trusting to their number more than to 
their valour, and valuing money higher than equity, felt that 
guiltiness is not always with ease oppressed. As for Cbremes, he 
withdrew himself, so gilding his wicked conceits with his hope of 
gain, that he was content to be a beholder how I should be taken 
to make his prey. 

" But I was grown so weary that I supported myself more with 
anger than strength, when the most excellent Musidorus came to 
riy succour, who having followed my trace as well as he could, 
after he found I had left the fight with Anaxius, came to the 
niggard's castle, where he found all burned and spoiled by the 


country people, who bare mortal hatred to that covetous man, and 
now took the time when the cattle was left almost without guard, 
to come in and leave monuments of their malice therein : which 
Musidorus not staying either to farther, or impeach, came upon 
the spur after me, because with one voice many told him, that if I 
were in his company, it was for no good meant unto me, and in 
this extremity found me. But when I saw that cousin of mine, 
methought my life was doubled, and where I before thought of a 
noble death, I now thought of a noble victory. For who can fear 
that hath Musidorus by him ? who, what he did there for me, how 
many he killed, not stranger for the number than for the strange 
blows wherewith he sent them to a well-deserved death, might 
well delight me to speak of, but I should so hold you too long in 
every particular. But in truth, there if ever, and ever, if ever any 
man, did Musidorus show himself second to none in able valour. 

"Yet what the unmeasurable excess of their number would have 
done in the end, I know not, but the trial thereof was cut off by 
the chanceable coming thither of the king of Iberia, that same 
father of the worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you sometimes 
to mention, who, not yielding over to old age his country delights, 
especially of hawking, was at that time following a merlin, brought 
to see this injury offered unto us, and having great numbers of 
courtiers waiting upon him, was straight known by the soldiers 
that assaulted us, to be their king, and so most of them withdrew 

" He, by his authority, knowing of the captain's own constrained 
confession, what was the motive of this mischievous practice ; 
misliking much such violence should be offered in his country to 
men of our rank, but chiefly disdaining it should be done in respect 
of his niece, whom, I must confess wrongfully, he hated, because 
he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his son 
Plangus against him, caused the captain's head presently to be 
stricken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged, though truly 
for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten 
of his bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his 
miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter, who, alas ! 
poor gentlewoman, was by chance slain- among his clowns, while 
she over-boldly for her weak sex sought to hold them from me, 
nor yet his own shameful end was so much in his mouth as he was 
led to execution, as the loss of his goods, and burning of his house 
which often, with more laughter than tears of the hearers, he made 
pitiful exclamations upon. 

"This justice thus done, and we delivered, the king indeed, in 
royal sort invited us to his court, not far thence : in all point 
entertaining us so, as truly I must ever acknowledge a beholding- 

22g ARCADIA [boo* It, 

ness unto him ; although the stream of it fell out not to be so 
sweet as the spring. For after some days being there, curing 
ourselves of such wounds as we had received, while I, causing 
diligent search to be made for Anaxius, could learn nothing, but 
that he was gone out of the country, boasting in every place how 
he had made me run away, we were brought to receive the favour 
of acquaintance with the Queen Andromana, whom the princess 
Pamela did in so lively colours describe the last day, as still 
methinks the figure thereof possesseth mine eyes, confirmed by the 
knowledge myself had. 

"And therefore I shall need the less to make you know what 
kind of woman she was ; but this only, that first with the reins of 
affection, and after with the very use of directing, she had made 
herself so absolute a master of her husband's mind, that a while 
he would not, and after, he could not tell how to govern without 
being governed by her : but finding an ease in not understanding, 
let loose his thoughts wholly to pleasure, entrusting to her the 
entire conduct of all his royal affairs. A thing that may luckily 
fall out to him that hath the blessing to match with some heroical- 
minded lady. But in him it was neither guided by wisdom, nor 
followed by fortune, but thereby was slipped insensibly into such an 
estate that he lived at her indiscreet discretion : all his subjects 
having by some years learned so to hope for good, and fear of 
harm, only from her, that it should have needed a stronger virtue 
than his to have unwound so deeply an entered vice. So that 
either not striving, because he was contented, or contented because 
he would not strive, he scarcely knew what was done in his own 
chamber, but as it pleased her instruments to frame the relation. 

" Now we being brought known unto her, the time that we spent 
in curing some very dangerous wounds, after once we were 
acquainted, and acquainted we were sooner than ourselves 
expected, she continually almost haunted us, till, and it was not 
long a doing, we discovered a most violent bent of affection, and 
that so strangely that we might well see an evil mind in authority 
doth not only follow the sway of the desires already within it, but 
frames to itself new desires, not before thought of. For, with 
equal ardour she affected us both ; and so did her greatness 
disdain shamefacedness that she was content to acknowledge it to 
both. For, having many times torn the veil of modesty, it seemed, 
for a last delight, that she delighted in infamy, which often she 
had used to her husband's shame, filling all men's ears, but his, 
with his reproach ; while he, hoodwinked with kindness, least of 
all men knew who struck him. But her first decree was, by setting 
forth her beauties, truly in nature not to be misliked, but as much 
advaaced to the eye as abased to the judgment by art, thereby to 


bring us, as willingly caught fishes, to bite at her bait. And 
thereto had she that scutchion of her desires supported by certain 
badly diligent ministers, who often cloyed our ears with her 
praises, and would needs teach us a way of felicity by seeking her 
favour. But when she found that we were as deaf to them as 
dumb to her, then she listed no longer stay in the suburbs of her 
foolish desires, but directly entered upon them, making herself an 
impudent suitor, authorizing herself very much with making us see 
that all favour and power in that realm so depended upon her, as 
now, being in her hands, we were either to keep or lose our liberty 
at her discretion ; which yet awhile she so tempered, as that we 
might rather suspect than she threaten. But when our wounds 
grew so as that they gave us leave to travel, and that she found we 
were purposed to use all means we could to depart thence, she, 
with more and more importunateness, craved, which in all good 
manners was either of us to be desired, or not granted. Truly, 
most fair and every way excellent lady, you would have wondered 
to have seen how before us she would confess the contention in 
her own mind between that lovely, indeed most lovely brownness 
of Musidorus's face, and this colour of mine, which she, in the 
deceivable style of affection would entitle beautiful : but her eyes 
wandered like a glutton at a feast, from the one to the other ; and 
how her words would begin half of the sentence to Musidorus, and 
end the other half to Pyrocles, not ashamed, seeing the friendship 
between us, to desire either of us to be a mediator to the other, 
as if we should have played one request at tennis between us ; and 
often wishing that she might be the angle where the lines of our 
friendship might meet, and be the knot which might tie our hearts 
together. Which proceeding of hers I do the more largely set 
before you, most dear lady, because by the foil thereof, you may 
see the nobleness of my desire to you and the warrantableness of 
your favour to me." 

At that Philoclea smiled with a little nod. " But," said Pyrocles, 
'' when she perceived no hope by suit to prevail, then, persuaded 
by the rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to do anything, 
she found means to have us accused to the King, as though we 
went about some practice to overthrow him in his own state, which, 
because of the strange successes we had had in the kingdoms of 
Phrygia, Pontus and Galatia, seemed not unlikely to him, who, 
but skimming anything that came before him, was disciplined to 
leave the thorough-handling of all to his gentle wife, who forthwith 
caused us to be put in prison, having, while we slept, deprived us 
of our arms : a prison, indeed injurious, because a prison, but else 
well testifying affection, because in all respects as commodious as a 
prison might be : and indeed so placed, as she might at all hours, 


not seen by many, though she cared not much how many had seen 
her, come unto us. Then fell she to sauce her desires with 
threatenings, so that we were in a great perplexity, restrained to so 
unworthy a bondage, and yet restrained by love, which I cannot 
tell how, in noble minds, by a certain duty, claims an answering. 
And how much that love might move us, so much, and more that 
faultiness of her mind removed us ; her beauty being balanced by 
her shamelessness. But that which did, as it were, tie us in a 
captivity, was, that to grant had been wickedly injurious to him 
that had saved our lives ; and to accuse a lady that loved us, of 
her love unto us, we esteemed almost as dishonourable : and but 
by one of those ways we saw no likelihood of going out of that 
place, where the words would be injurious to your ears, which 
would express the manner of her suit : while yet many times 
earnestness dyed her cheeks with the colour of shamefacedness, 
and wanton languishing borrowed of her eyes the down-cast look 
of modesty. But we in the meantime far from loving her, and 
often assuring her that we would not so recompense her husband's 
saving of our lives ; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, 
she had brought him, that she caused him to send us word, that 
upon our lives we should do whatsoever she commanded us : good 
man not knowing any other but that all her pleasures were 
directed to the preservation of his estate. But when that made us 
rather pity than obey his folly, then fell she to servile entreating 
us, as though force could have been the school of love, or that an 
honest courage would not rather strive against, than yield to 
injury. All which yet could not make us accuse her, though it 
made us almost pine away for spite to lose any of our time in so 
troublesome an idleness. 

" But while we were thus full of weariness of what was past, and 
doubt of what was to follow, love, that I think in the course of 
my life hath a sport sometimes to poison me with roses, some- 
times to heal me with wormwood, brought forth a remedy 
unto us : which though it helped me out of that distress, alas, 
the conclusion was such that I must ever while I live think it 
worse than a wreck so to have been preserved. This king by 
his queen had a son of tender age, but of great expectation, 
brought up in the hope of themselves, and already acceptation 
of the inconstant people, as successor of his father's crown, 
whereof he was as worthy, considering his parts, as unworthy 
in respect of the wrong was thereby done against the most 
noble Plangus, whose great deserts now either forgotten, or un- 
gratefully remembered ; all men set their sails with the favourable 
wind, which blew on the fortune of this young prince, perchance 
pot in their hearts, but surely in their mouths, now giving Plan^us^ 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 231 

who some years before was their only champion, the poor comfort 
of calamity, pity. This youth therefore accounted prince of that 
region, by name Palladius, did with vehement affection love a 
young lady brought up in his father's court, called Zelmane, 
daughter to that mischievously unhappy prince Plexirtus, of whom 
already I have, and sometimes must make, but never honourable 
mention, left there by her father, because of the intricate change- 
ableness of his estate, he, by the mother's side, being half brother 
to this queen Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing 
her to her care. But as love, alas ! doth not always reflect itself, 
so fell it out that this Zelmane, though truly reason there was 
enough to love Palladius, yet could not ever persuade her heart 
to yield thereunto : with that pain to Palladius, as they feel 
that feel an unloved love. Yet loving indeed, and therefore 
constant, he used still the intercession of diligence and faith, ever 
hoping, because he would not put himself into that hell to be 
hopeless : until the time of our being come, and captived there, 
brought forth this end, which truly deserves of me a further 
degree of sorrow than tears. 

" Such was therein my ill destiny, that this young lady Zelmane, 
like some unwisely liberal, that more delight to give presents than 
pay debts, she chose, alas more the pity, rather to bestow her love, 
so much undeserved as not desired, upon me, than to recompense 
him, whose love, besides many other things, might seem, even in 
the court of honour, justly to claim it of her. But so it was ; 
alas that so it was 1 whereby it came to pass, that as nothing doth 
more naturally follow this cause than care to preserve, and benefit 
doth follow unfeigned affection, she felt with me what I felt of my 
captivity, and straight laboured to redress my pain, which was her 
pain ; which she could do by no better means than by using the 
help therein of Palladius, who, true lover considering what, and 
not why, in all her commandments ; and indeed she concealing 
from him her affection, which she entitled, compassion, immedi- 
ately obeyed to employ his uttermost credit to relieve us ; which 
though as great as a beloved son with a mother, faulty otherwise, 
but not hard-hearted toward him, yet it could not prevail to 
procure us liberty. Wherefore he sought to have that by practice 
which he could not by prayer. And so being allowed often to 
visit us, for indeed our restraints were more or less, according as 
the ague of her passion was either in the fit or intermission, he 
used the opportunity of a fit time thus to deliver us. 

" The time of the marrying that queen was, every year, by the 
extreme love of her husband, and the serviceable love of the 
courtiers, made notable by some public honours, which did, as it 
jvere, proclaim to the world, how dear she was to that people. 

232 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

Among other, none was either more grateful to the beholders, 
or more noble in itself, than jousts, both with sword and lance, 
maintained for seven nights together; wherein that nation doth 
so excel, both for comeliness and ableness, that from neighbour- 
countries they ordinarily come, some to strive, some to learn, some 
to behold. 

" This day it happened that divers famous knights came thither 
from the court of Helen Queen of Corinth ; a lady whom fame at 
that time was so desirous to honour that she borrowed all men's 
mouths to join with the sound of her trumpet. For as her beauty 
hath won the prize from all women that stand in degree of com- 
parison, for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are far beyond 
all conceit of comparison, so hath her government been such as 
hath been no less beautiful to men's judgments than her beauty to 
the eyesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, 
a young woman, a fair woman, to govern a people in nature 
mutinously proud, and always before so used to hard governors, 
that they knew not how to obey without the sword were drawn, 
could she for some years so carry herself among them, that they 
found cause in the delicacy of her sex, of admiration, not of 
contempt : and which was not able, even in the time that many 
countries about her were full of wars, which for old grudges to 
Corinth were thought still would conclude there, yet so handled 
she the matter, that the threatened ever smarted in the threateners ; 
she using so strange, and yet so well succeeding a temper that 
she made her people by peace warlike ; her courtiers by sports, 
learned ; her ladies by love, chaste. For by continual martial 
exercises without blood, she made them perfect in that bloody art. 
Her sports were such as carried riches of knowledge upon the 
stream of delight : and such the behaviour both of herself and her 
ladies, as builded their chastity not upon waywardness, but choice 
of worthiness : so as it seemed that court to have been the 
marriage-place of love and virtue, and that herself was a Diana 
apparelled in the garments of Venus. And this which fame only 
deUvered unto me, for yet I have never seen her, I am the willinger 
to speak of to you, who, I know, know her better, being your near 
neighbour, because you may see by her example, in herself wise, 
and of others beloved, that neither folly is the cause of vehement 
love, nor reproach the effect. For never, I think, was there any 
woman that with more unremovable determination gave herself 
to the counsel of love, after she had once set before her mind 
the worthiness of your cousin Amphialus, and yet is neither her 
wisdom doubted of, nor honom: blemished. For, O God, what 
doth better become wisdom, than to discern what is worthy the 
loving? what more agreeable to goodness, than to love it so 


discerned? and what to greatness of ITeart, than to be constant 
in it once loved ? but at that time that love of hers was not so 
publicly known as the death of Philoxemus, and her search of 
Amphialus hath made it : but then seemed to have such leisure 
to send thither divers choice knights of her court, because they 
might bring her, at least the knowledge, perchance the honour of 
that triumph. Wherein so they behaved themselves, that for 
three days they carried the prize ; which being come from so far 
a place to disgrace her servants, Palladius, who himself had never 
used arms, persuaded the queen Andromana to be content for the 
honour sake of her court, to suffer us two to have our horse and 
armour, that he with us might undertake the recovery of their lost 
honour ; which she granted, taking our oath to go no farther than 
her son, nor ever to abandon him. Which she did not more for 
saving him, than keeping us : and yet not satisfied with our oath, 
appointed a band of horsemen to have an eye that we should not 
go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratify the young 
prince, who, we saw, loved us. And so the fourth day of that 
exercise we came into the field : where, I remember, the manner 
was, that the forenoon they should run a tilt, one after the other ; 
the afternoon in a broad field in manner of a battle, till either the 
strangers, or that country knights won the field. 

" The first that ran was a brave knight, whose device was to 
come in all chained, with a nymph leading him. Against him 
came forth an Iberian, whose manner of entering was with 
bagpipes instead of trumpets ; a shepherd's boy before him for 
a page, and by him a dozen apparelled like shepherds for the 
fashion, though rich in stuff, who carried his lances, which though 
strong to give a lancely blow indeed, yet so were they coloured 
with hooks near the mourn, that they prettily represented sheep- 
hooks. His own furniture was dressed over with wool, so enriched 
with jewels artificially placed, that one would have thought it 
a marriage between the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was 
a sheep marked with pitch, with those words, ' Spotted to be 
known.' And because I may tell you out his conceit, though that 
were not done, till the running of that time was ended, before the 
ladies' departure from the windows, among whom there was one, 
they say, that was the Star whereby his course was only directed, 
the shepherds attending upon Philisides went among them, and 
sang an eclogue ; one of them answering another, while the other 
shepherds pulling out recorders, which possessed the place of pipes, 
accorded their music to the other's voice. The eclogue had great 
praise : I only remember six verses, while having questioned one 
with the other of their fellow-shepherd's sudden growing a man 
of arms, and the cause of his doing, they thus said : 

234 ARCADIA [book n. 

Me thought some staves he miss'd ! if so, not much amiss ; 
For where he most would hit, he ever yet did miss. 
One said he broke a cross ; full well it so might be : 
For never was there man more crossly crossed than he. 
But most cried, O well broke ; O fool full gaily blest : 
Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best. 

" Thus I have digressed, because his manner liked me well, but 
when he began to run against Lelius, it had near grown, though 
great love had ever been betwixt them, to a quarrel. For 
Philisides breaking his staves with great commendation, Lelius, 
who was known to be second to none in the perfection of that art, 
ran ever over his head, but so finely to the skilful eyes, that one 
might well see he showed more knowledge in missing, than others 
did in hitting. For if so gallant a grace his staff came swimming 
close over the crest of the helmet, as if he would represent the 
kiss, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moved 
with it, while he thought Lelius would show a contempt of his 
youth : till Lelius, who therefore would satisfy him, because he 
was his friend, made him know that to such bondage he was for 
so many courses tied by her, whose disgraces to him were graced 
by her excellency, and whose injuries he could never otherwise 
return, than honours. 

" But so by Lelius's willing missing was the odds of the Iberian 
side, and continued so in the next by the excellent running of 
a knight, though fostered so by the Muses, as many times the very 
rustic people left both their delights and profits to hearken to his 
songs, yet could he so well perform all armed sports, as if he had 
never had any other pen than a lance in his hand. He came in 
like a wild man, but such a wildness as showed his eyesight had 
tamed him, full of withered leaves, which though they fell not, still 
threatened falling. His Impresa was a mill-horse still bound to go 
in one circle ; with those words, ' Data fata secutus.' But after 
him the Corinthian knights absolutely prevailed, especially a great 
nobleman of Corinth, whose device was to come without any 
device, all in white like a new knight, as indeed he was, but so 
new, as his newness shamed most of the other's long exercise. 
Then another, from whose tent I remember a bird was made fly, 
with such art to carry a written embassage among the ladies, that 
one might say, if a live bird, how so taught ? if a dead bird, how so 
made? then he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure 
lively representing the Phoenix, the fire took so artificially as it 
consumed the bird, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes 
thereof. Against whom was the fine frozen knight, frozen in 
despair ; but his armour so naturally representing- ice, and all his 


furniture so lively answering thereto, as yet did I never see 
anything that pleased me better. 

" But the delight at those pleasing sights have carried me too 
far into an unnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice, most 
excellent lady ! that you know, the Corinthians that morning in 
the exercise, as they had done the days before, had the better ; 
Palladius neither suffering us nor himself, to take in hand the 
party till the afternoon, when we were to fight in troops, not 
differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpness of the 
weapons was taken away. But in the trial, Palladius, especially 
led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me, himself truly 
behaving himself nothing like a beginner, brought the honour to 
rest itself that night on the Iberian side, and the next day, both 
morning and afternoon being kept by our party. He, that saw the 
time fit for the delivery he intended, called unto us to follow him, 
which we both bound by oath, and willing by goodwill, obeyed, 
and so the guard not daring to interrupt us, he commanding 
passage, we went after him upon the spur, to a little house in a 
forest near by ; which he thought would be the fittest resting place, 
till we might go farther from his mother's fury, whereat he was no 
less angry and ashamed, than desirous to obey Zelmane. 

" But his mother, as I learned since, understanding by the guard 
her son's conveying us away, forgetting her greatness, and resigning 
modesty to more quiet thoughts, flew out from her place, and cried 
to be accompanied, for she herself would follow us. But what she 
did, being rather with vehemency of passion that conduct of 
reason, made her stumble while she ran, and by her own confusion 
hinder her own desires. For so impatiently she commanded, as a 
good while nobody knew what she commanded, so as we had 
gotten so far the start, as to be already past the confines of her 
kingdom before she overtook us : and overtake us she did in the 
kingdom of Bithynia, not regarding shame, or danger of having 
entered into another's dominions, but, having with her about 
threescore horsemen, straight commanded to take us alive, and 
not to regard her son's threatening therein, which they attempted 
to do, first by speech, and then by force. But neither liking their 
eloquence, nor fearing their might, we esteemed few words in a 
just defence, able to resist many unjust assaulters. And so 
Musidorus's incredible valour, beating down all lets, made both 
me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to do to 
overcome weak wrong. 

"And now had we the victory in effect without blood, when 
Palladius, heated with the fight, and angry with his mother's fault, 
so pursued our assailers, that one of them, who as I heard since, 
had before our coming been a special minion of Andromana's, and 


hated us for having^ dispossessed him of her heart, taking him to 
be one of us, with a traitorous blow slew his young prince, who 
falling down before our eyes, whom he especially had delivered ; 
judge, sweetest lady, whether anger might not be called justice in 
such a case : once, so it wrought in us, that many of his subjects 
bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the 
other world. 

" All this while disdain, strengthened by the fury of a furious 
love, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat ; and when 
she saw us light down to see what help we might do to the 
helpless Palladius, she came running madly unto us, then no less 
threatening, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she 
perceived it was her only son that lay hurt, and that his hurt 
was so deadly, as that already his life had lost the use of 
reasonable, and almost sensible part, then only did misfortune lay 
his own ugliness upon her fault, and make her see what she had 
done, and to what she was come ; especially finding in us rather 
detestation than pity, considering the loss of that young prince, 
and resolution presently to depart, which still she laboured to stay. 
But deprived of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ran to her 
son's dagger, and before we were aware of it, who else would have 
stayed it, struck herself a mortal wound. But then her love, 
though not her person, awaked pity in us, and I went to her, while 
Musidorus laboured about Palladius. But the wound was past 
the cure of a better surgeon than myself, so as I could but receive 
some few of her dying words, which were cursings of her ill set 
affection, and wishing unto me many crosses and mischances in 
my love, whensoever I should love, wherein I fear, and only fear 
that her prayer is from above granted. But the noise of this fight, 
and issue thereof being blazed by the country people to some 
noblemen thereabouts ; they came thither, and finding the wrong 
offered us, let us go on our journey, we having recommended those 
royal bodies unto them to be conveyed to the king of Iberia." 

With that Philoclea seeing the tears stand in his eyes with 
remembrance of Palladius, but much more of that which thereupon 
grew, she would needs drink a kiss from those eyes, and he suck 
another from her lips ; whereat she blushed, and yet kissed him 
again to hide her blushing, which had almost brought Pyrocles 
into another discourse, but that she with so sweet a rigour forbade 
him, that he durst not rebel, though he found it a great war to keep 
that peace, but was fain to go on in his story; but so she absolutely 
bade him, and he durst not know how to disobey. 

" So," said he, " parting from that place before the sun had much 
abased himself of his greatest height, we saw sitting upon the dry 
sands, which yielded, at that time, a very hot reflection, a fair 


gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorrow, and 
every way showed she cared not what pain she put her body to, 
since the better part, her mind, was laid under so much agony : 
and so was she dulled, withal, that we could come so near as to 
hear her speeches, and yet she not perceive the hearers of her 
lamentation. But well we might understand her at times say, 
' Thou doest kill me with thy unkind falsehood : and it grieves me 
not to die, but it grieves me that thou art the murderer : neither 
doth mine own pain so much vex me, as thy error. For God knows, 
it would not trouble me to be slain for thee, but much it torments 
me to be slain by thee ; thou art untrue, Pamphilus, thou art 
untrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft did'st thou swear unto 
me that the sun should lose his light, and the rocks run up and 
down like little kids, before thou would'st falsify thy faith to me ? 
sun therefore put out thy shining, and rocks run mad for sorrow ; 
for Pamphilus is false. But alas ! the sun keeps his light, though 
thy faith be darkened ; the rocks stand still, though thou change 
hke a weather-cock. O fool that I am, that thought I could grasp 
water, and bind the wind. I might well have known thee by 
others, but I would not ; and rather wished to learn poison by 
drinking it myself, while my love helped thy words to deceive me. 
Well, yet I would thou had'st made a better choice when though 
did'st forsake thy unfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, 
Baccha, thy new mistress, will revenge my wrongs. But do not 
Baccha, let Pamphilus live happy, though I die.' 

"And much more to such like phrase she spoke, but that I, 
who had occasion to know something of that Pamphilus, stepped 
to comfort her : and though I could not do that, yet I got tius 
much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to 
whom the unconstant Pamphilus had betrothed himself, which 
had moved the other ladies to such indignation as I told you : 
neither her worthiness, which in truth was great, nor his own 
suffering for her, which is wont to endear affection, could fetter 
his fickleness, but that before his marriage day appointed, he had 
taken to wife that Baccha, of whom she complained, one that 
in divers places I had heard before placed, as the most impudently 
unchaste woman of all Asia, and withal of such an imperiousness 
therein, that she would not stick to employ them whom she made 
unhappy with her favour, to draw more companions of their folly : 
in the multitude of whom she did no less glory, than a captain 
would do of being followed by brave soldiers : waywardly proud ; 
and therefore bold, because extremely faulty : and yet having no 
good thing to redeem both these, and other unlovely parts, but 
a little beauty, disgraced with wandering eyes, and unweighed 
speeches, yet had Pamphilus, for her, left Leucippe, and withal, 

238 ARCADIA [book n. 

left his faith; Leucippe, of whom one look, in a clear judgment, 
would have been more acceptable than all her kindnesses so 
prodigally bestowed. For myself, the remembrance of his cruel 
handling Dido, joined to this, stirred me to seek some revenge 
upon him, but that I thought it should be again for him to lose 
his life, being so matched : and therefore, leaving him to be 
punished by his own election, we conveyed Leucippe to a house 
thereby, dedicated to Vestal nuns, where she resolved to spend 
all her years, which her youth promised should be many, in 
bewailing the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong-doer. 

"But the next morning, we, having striven with the sun's 
earliness, were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets 
of that building, when there overtook us a young gentleman, for 
so he seemed to us : but indeed, sweet lady, it was the fair 
Zelmane, Plexirtus's daughter, whom unconsulting affection, un- 
fortunately born to me-wards, had made borrow so much of her 
natural modesty, as to leave her more decent raiments, and taking 
occasion of Andromana's tumultuous pursuing us, had apparelled 
herself like a page, with a pitiful cruelty cutting off' her golden 
hair, leaving nothing, but the short curls, to cover that noble head, 
but that she wore upon it a fair headpiece, a shield at her back, 
and a lance in her hand, else disarmed. Her apparel of white, 
wrought upon with broken knots, her horse, fair and lusty ; which 
she rid so, as might show a fearful boldness, daring to do that 
which she knew that she knew not how to do : and the sweetness 
of her countenance did give such a grace to what she did that it 
did make handsome the unhandsomeness, and make the ©ye force 
the mind to believe that there was a praise in that unskilfulness. 
But she straight approached me, and with few words, which 
borrowed the help of her countenance to make themselves 
understood, she desired me to accept her into my service, telling 
me she was a nobleman's son of Iberia, her name Diaphantus, 
who having seen what I had done in that court, had stolen from her 
father, to follow me. I enquired the particularities of the manner 
of Andromana's following me, which by her I understood, she 
hiding nothing but her sex from me. And still methought I had 
seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her 
far distant from my memory : but liking very well the young 
gentleman, such I took her to be, admitted this Diaphantus about 
me, who well showed there is no service like his, that serves 
because he loves. For though born of princes' blood, brought -up 
with tenderest education, unapt to service, because a woman, and 
full of thoughts, because in a strange estate, yst love enjoined 
such diligence, that no apprentice, no, no bondslave could ever 
be by fear more ready at all commandments than that young 


princess was. How often, alas ! did her eyes say unto me that 
they loved ? and yet, I not looking for such a matter, had not my 
conceit open to understand them : how often would she come 
creeping to me, between gladness to be near me, and fear to 
offend me? truly I remember, that then I marvelled to see her 
receive my commandments with sighs, and yet do them with 
cheerfulness ; sometimes answering me in such riddles, as then 
I thought a childish inexperience, but since returning to my 
remembrance they have come more clear unto my knowledge : 
and pardon me, only dear lady, that I use many words, for her 
affection to me, deserves of me an affectionate speech. 

" But in such sort did she serve me in that kingdom of Bithynia, 
for two months space : in which time we brought to good end 
a cruel war long maintained between the king of Bithynia and his 
brother. For my excellent cousin, and I, dividing ourselves to 
either side, found means, after some trial we had made of ourselves, 
to get such credit with them, as we brought them to as great 
peace between themselves as love toward us for having made the 
peace. Which done, we intended to return through the kingdom 
of Galatia, called Thrace, to ease the care of our father and 
mother, who, we were sure, first with the shipwreck, and then with 
the other dangers we daily passed, should have little rest in their 
thoughts till they saw us. But we were not entered into that 
kingdom, when by the noise of a great fight we were guided to 
a pleasant valley, which like one of those circuses, which in great 
cities somewhere doth give a pleasant spectacle of running horses, so 
of either side, stretching itself in a narrow length, was it hemmed 
in by woody hills, as if indeed nature had meant therein to make 
a place for beholders. And there we beheld one of the cruellest 
fights between two knights that ever hath adorned the most 
■martial story. So as I must confess, a while we stood bewondered, 
another while delighted with the rare beauty thereof ; till seeing 
such streams of blood, as threatened a drowning of life, we galloped 
toward them to part them. But we were prevented by a dozen 
armed knights, or rather villains, who using this time of their 
extreme feebleness, altogether set upon them. But common 
danger broke off particular discord, so that, though with a dying 
weakness, with a lively courage they resisted, and by our help 
drove away, or slew those murdering attemptors : among whom we 
happened to take alive the principal. But going to disarm those 
two excellent knights, we found, with no less wonder to us than 
astonishment to themselves, that they were the two valiant, and 
indeed famous brothers, Tydeus and Telenor, whose adventure, 
as afterward we made that ungracious wretch confess, had thus 
fallen out. 

240 ARCADIA [book it. 

"After the noble prince Leonatus had by his father's death, 
succeeded in the kingdom of Galatia, he forgetting all former 
injuries, had received that naughty Plexirtus into a strange degree 
of favour, his goodness being as apt to be deceived, asthe other's 
craft was to deceive ; till by plain proof, finding that the ungrateful 
man went about to poison him, yet would he not suffer his kindness 
to be overcome, not by justice itself; but calling him to him, used 
words to this purpose ; ' Plexirtus,' said he, ' this wickedness is 
found by thee ; no good deeds of mine have been able to keep 
it down in thee : all men counsel me to take away thy life, likely 
to bring forth nothing but as dangerous as wicked effects ; but 
I cannot find it in my heart, remembering what father's son thou 
art : but since it is the violence of ambition which perchance pulls 
thee from thine own judgment, I will see whether the satisfying 
that, may quiet the ill-working of thy spirits. Not far hence is 
the great city of Trebisond ; which, with the territory about it, 
anciently pertained unto this crown ; now unjustly possessed, and 
as unjustly abused by those who have neither title to hold it, nor 
virtue to rule it. To the conquest of that for thyself I will lend 
thee force, and give thee my right : go therefore, and, with less 
unnaturalness glut thy ambition there ; and that done, if it be 
possible, learn virtue.' 

"Plexirtus, mingling foresworn excuses with false-meant 
promises, gladly embraced the offer : and hastily sending back 
for those two brothers, who at that time were with us succouring 
the gracious queen Erona, by their virtue chiefly, if not only, 
obtained the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeed, 
done by them, gave them such an authority, that though he 
reigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them because 
they only deserved honour, and many thinking therein to please 
Plexirtus, considering how much he was bound unto them : while 
they likewise, with a certain sincere boldness of self-warranting 
friendship, accepted all openly and plainly, thinking nothing should 
ever by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were 
was his. 

" But he, who by the rules of his own mind, could construe no 
other end of men's doings but self-seeking, suddenly feared what 
they could do, and as suddenly suspected what they would do, and 
as suddenly hated them, as having both might and mind to do. 
But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their own valour, 
and others' affection, he durst not take open way against them, 
and as hard it was to take a secret, they being so continually 
followed by the best, and every way ablest of that region : and 
therefore used this devilish slight which I will tell you, not doubt- 
ing, most wicked man, to turn their own friendship toward him to 


their own destruction. He, knowing that they well knew there 
was no friendship between him and the new king of Pontus, never 
since he succoured Leonatus, and us, to his overthrow, gave them 
to understand, that of late there had passed secret defiance between 
them, to meet privately at a place appointed. Which though not 
so fit a thing for men of their greatness, yet was his honour so 
engaged, as he could not go back. Yet feigning to find himself 
weak, by some counterfeit infirmity, the day drawing near, he 
requested each of them to go in his stead, making either of them 
swear to keep the matter secret, even each from other, delivering 
the self-same particularities to both ; but that he told Tydeus, the 
king would meet him in a blue armour ; and Telenor that it was 
a black armour : and with wicked subtlety, as if it had been so 
appointed, caused Tydeus to take a black armour, and Telenor a 
blue ; appointing them ways how to go, so that he knew they 
should not meet till they came to the place appointed, where each 
promised to keep silence, lest the king should discover it was not 
Plexirtus ; and there in a wait had he laid those murderers, that 
who overlived the other should by them be dispatched : he not 
daring trust no more than those with that enterprize, and yet 
thinking them too few till themselves, by themselves, were 

" This we learned chiefly by the chief of those way-beaters, after 
the death of those two worthy brothers, whose love was no less 
than their valour : but well we might find much thereof by their 
pitiful lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw 
each other, in despite of the surgery we could do unto them, 
striving who should run fastest to the goal of death : each bewailing 
the other, and more dying in the other, than in himself; cursing 
their own hands for doing, and their breasts for not sooner 
suffering ; detesting their unfortunately-spent time in having 
served so ungrateful a tyrant, and accusing their folly in having 
beUeved he could faithfully love, who did not love faithfiilness ; 
wishing us to take heed how we placed our goodwill upon any 
other ground than proof of virtue : since length of acquaintance, 
mutual secrecies, nor heat of benefits could bind a savage heart ; 
no man being good to other, that is not good in himself. Then, 
while any hope was, beseeching us to leave the care of him that 
besought, and only look to the other. But when they found by 
themselves, and us, no possibihty, they desired to be joined ; and so 
embracing and craving that pardon each of other which they 
denied to themselves, they gave us a most sorrowful spectacle of 
their death ; leaving few in the world behind them, their matches 
in anything, if they had soon enough known the ground and limits 
of friendship. But with woeful hearts we caused those bodies to 


242 ARCADIA [book ii. 

be conveyed to the next town of Bithynia, where we learning thus 
much, as I have told you, caused the wicked historian to conclude 
his story with his own well-deserved death. 

" But then, I must tell you, I found such woeful countenances in 
Daiphantus, that I could not much marvel, finding them continue 
beyond the first assault of pity, how the case of strangers, for 
further I did not conceive, could so deeply pierce. But the truth 
indeed is, that partly with the shame and sorrow she took of her 
father's faultiness, partly with the fear that the hate I conceived 
against him, would utterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoever 
I should know her, so vehemently perplexed her, that her fair 
colour decayed, and daily and hastily grew into the very extreme 
working of sorrowfulness, which oft I sought to learn, and help. 
But she as fearful as loving, still concealed it : and so decaying 
still more and more in the excellency of her fairness, but that 
whatsoever weakness took away, pity seemed to add : yet still she 
forced herself to wait on me with such care and diligence, as might 
well show had been taught in no other school but love. 

"While we, returning again to embark ourselves for Greece, 
understood that the mighty Otanes, brother to Barzanes, slain by 
Musidorus in the battle of the six princes, had entered upon the 
kingdom of Pontus, partly upon the pretences he had to the crown, 
but principally, because he would revenge upon him whom he 
knew we loved, the loss of his brother, thinking, as indeed he had 
cause, that wheresoever -we were, hearing of his extremity, we 
would come to relieve him ; in spite whereof he doubted not to 
prevail, not only upon the confidence of his own virtue and power, 
but especially because he had in his company two mighty giants, 
sons to a couple whom we slew in the same realm ; they having 
been absent at their father's death, and now returned, wiUingly 
entered into his service, hating more than he, both us and that 
king of Pontus. We therefore with all speed went thitherward, 
but by the way this fell out, which whensoever I remember without 
sorrow, I must forget withal, all humanity. 

"Poor Diaphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquer 
the delicacy of her constitution, and force herself to wait on me : 
till one day going toward Pontus, we met one who in great haste 
went seeking for Tydeus and Telenor, whose death as yet was 
not known unto the messenger; who, being their servant, and 
knowing how dearly they loved Plexirtus, brought them word, how 
since their departing, Plexirtus was in present danger of a cruel 
death, if by the vahantness of one of the best knights of the world, 
he were not rescued : we enquired no farther of the matter, being 
glad he should now to his loss find what an unprofitable treason 
it had been unto him, to dismember himself of two such friends, 


and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his 
master's destruction by the falsehood of Plexirtus. 

" But the grief of that, finding a body already brought to the 
last degree of weakness, so overwhelmed the little remnant of the 
spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell suddenly into deadly swoon- 
ings ; never coming to herself, but that withal she returned to 
make most pitiful lamentations ; most strange unto us, because we 
were far from guessing the ground thereof. But finding her sick- 
ness such as began to print death in her eyes, we made all haste 
possible to convey her to the next town : but before we could lay 
her on a bed, both we, and she might find in herself, that the 
harbingers of over-hasty death had prepared his lodging in that 
dainty body, which she undoubtedly feeling, with a weak cheerful- 
ness showed comfort therein, and then desiring us both to come 
near her, and that nobody else might be present ; with pale, and 
yet, even in paleness, lovely lips ; now or never, and never indeed 
ijut now, 'It is time for me,' said she, 'to speak; and I thank 
death which gives me leave to discover that, the suppressing 
whereof perchance hath been the sharpest spur that hath hasted 
my race to this end. Know then my lords, and especially you my 
lord and master Pyrocles, that your page Daiphantus is the 
unfortunate Zelmane, who for your sake caused my, as unfortunate, 
lover and cousin Palladius, to leave his father's court, and con- 
sequently, both him and my aunt, his mother, to lose their lives. 
For your sake myself have become, of a princess, a page, and for 
your sake have put off the apparel of a woman, and, if you judge 
not more mercifully, the modesty.' We were amazed at her speech, 
and then had, as it were, new eyes given us to perceive that which 
before had been a present stranger to our minds : for indeed 
forthwith we knew it to be the face of Zelmane, whom before we 
had known in the court of Iberia. And sorrow and pity laying 
her pain upon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tender- 
ness of goodwill, pretending indeed better hope than I had of her 

" But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrant that 
shortly would oppress her ; ' No, my dear master,' said she, ' I 
neither hope nor desire to live. I know you would never have 
loved me,' and with that word she wept, ' nor, alas ! had it been 
reason you should, considering many ways my unworthiness. It 
sufficeth me that the strange course I have taken, shall to your 
remembrance witness my love ; and yet this breaking of my heart, 
before I would discover my pain will make you, I hope, think that 
I was not altogether unmodest. Think of me so, dear master, and 
that thought shall be my life ;' and with that languishingly looking 
upon me ; ' and I pray you,' said she, ' even by those dying eyes of 

244 ARCADIA [book ii. 

mine, which are only sorry to die because they shall lose your 
sight, and by those polled locks of mine which, while they were 
long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short curls, the 
testimony of my servitude, and by the service I have done you, 
which , God knows hath been full of love, think of me after my 
death with kindness, though you cannot with love. And when- 
soever ye shall make any other lady happy with your well-placed 
affection, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speak of it, not with 
scorn, but with pity.' I assure you, dear princess, of my life (for 
how could it be otherwise) her words and her manner, with the lively 
consideration of her love, so pierced me, that though I had divers 
griefs before, yet methought I never felt till then how much sorrow 
infeebleth all resolution : for I could not choose but yield to the 
weakness of abundant weeping ; in truth with such grief, that I 
could willingly at that time have changed lives with her. 

" But when she saw my tears, ' O God,' said she, ' how largely 
am I recompensed for my losses ? why then,' said she, ' I may take 
boldness to make some requests unto you.' I besought her to do, 
vowing the performance, though my life were the price thereof. 
She showed great joy. ' The first,' said she, ' is this, that you will 
pardon my father the displeasure you have justly received against 
him, and for this once succour him out of the danger wherein he 
is : I hope he will amend : and I pray you, whensoever you 
remember him to be the faulty Plexirtus, remember withal that he 
is Zelmane's father. The second is, that when you come once into 
Greece, you will take unto yourself this name, though unlucky, of 
Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it : for so shall I be 
sure you shall have cause to remember me, and let it please your 
noble cousin to be called Palladius, that I may do that right to that 
poor prince, that his name yet may live upon the earth in so 
excellent a person : and so between you, I trust sometimes your 
unlucky page shall be, perhaps with a sigh, mentioned ; lastly, let 
me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to know my 
fortune (till, when you are safely returned to your own country) 
you cause my bones to be conveyed thither, and, laid I beseech 
you, in some place where yourself vouchsafe sometimes to resort.' 
Alas ! small petitions for such a suitor ; which yet she so earnestly 
craved that I was fain to swear the accomplishment. And then 
kissing me, and often desiring me not to condemn her of lightness, 
in mine arms, she dehvered her pure soul to the purest place, 
leaving me as full of agony as kindness, pity, and sorrow could 
make an honest heart. For I must confess for true, that if my 
stars had not only reserved me for you, there else perhaps I might 
have loved, and, which had been most strange, begun my love 
after deaft ; whereof let it be the less marvel, because somewhat 


she did resemble you, though as far short of your perfection as 
herself dying, was of herself flourishing : yet something there was, 
which, when I saw a picture 'of yours, brought again her figure 
into my remembrance, and made my heart as apt to receive the 
wound, as the power of your beauty with unresistable force to 

"But we in woeful, and yet private, manner burying her, 
performed her commandment : and then enquiring of her father's 
estate, certainly learned that he was presently to be succoured, or 
by death to pass the need of succour. Therefore we determined to 
divide ourselves ; I, according to my vow, to help him, and 
Musidorus toward the king of Pontus, who stood in no less need 
than immediate succour : and even ready to depart one from the 
other, there came a messenger from him, who after some enquiry 
found us, giving us to understand that he, trusting upon us two, 
had appointed the combat between him and us, against Otanes 
and the two giants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was 
impossible for me both to succour Plexirtus, and be there, where 
my honour was not only so far engaged, but, by the strange working 
of unjust fortune, I was to leave the standing by Musidorus, whom 
better than myself I loved, to go save him, whom for just causes, I 
hated. But my promise given, and given to Zelmane, and to 
Zelmane dying, prevailed more with me than my friendship to 
Musidorus, though certainly I may affirm, nothing had so great 
rule in my thoughts as that. But my promise carried me the 
easier, because Musidorus himself would not suffer me to break it. 
And so with heavy minds, more careful each of other's success 
than of our own, we parted ; I toward the place, where I understood 
Plexirtus was prisoner to an ancient lord, absolutely governing a 
goodly castle, with a large territory about it, whereof he 
acknowledged no other sovereign but himself, whose hate to 
Plexirtus grew for a kinsman of his whom he maliciously had 
murdered, because in the time that he reigned in Galatia, he found 
him apt to practice for the restoring of his virtuous brother 
Leonatus. This old knight still thirsting for revenge, used as the 
way to it a policy, which this occasion, I will tell you prepared for 
him. Plexirtus in his youth had married Zelmane's mother, who 
dying of that only childbirth, he a widower and not yet a king, 
haunted the court of Armenia, where, as he was cunning to win 
favour, he obtained great good liking of Artaxia; which he 
pursued : till, being called home by his father, he falsely got his 
father's kingdom : and then neglected his former love : till, thrown 
out of that by our means, before he was deeply rooted in it, and by 
and by again placed in Trebisond, understanding that Artaxia by 
her brother's death was become queen of Armenia, he was hotter 

246 ARCADIA [BOOK li. 

than ever in that pursuit, which being understood by this old 
knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, 
entreating his present, but very private, repair thither, giving him 
faithful promise of present marriage : a thing far from her thought, 
having faithfully and publicly protested that she would never marry 
any, but some such prince who would give sure proof that by his 
means we were destroyed. But he no more witty to frame, than 
blind to judge hopes, bit hastily at the bait, and in private manner 
posted toward her, but by the way he was met by this knight, far 
better accompanied, who quickly laid hold of him, and condemned 
him to a death, cruel enough, if anything may be both cruel and 
just. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a 
day appointed, at which time he would deliver him to be devoured 
by a monstrous beast of most ugly shape, armed like a rhinoceros, 
as strong as an elephant, as fierce as a lion, as nimble as a leopard, 
and as cruel as a tiger ; whom he having kept in a strong place, 
from the first youth of it, now thought no fitter match than such a 
beastly monster with a monstrous tyrant ; proclaiming yet withal, 
that if any so well loved him as to venture their lives against his 
beast for him, if they overcame, he should be saved : not caring 
how many they were, such confidence he had in that monstrous 
strength, but especially hoping to entrap thereby the great courages 
of Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no less hated, because tliey had 
been principal instruments of the other's power. 

" I dare say, if Zelmane had known what danger I should have 
passed, she would rather have let her father to perish, than me to 
have bidden that adventure. But my word was past ; and truly 
the hardness of the enterprise was not so much a bit as a spur 
unto me, knowing well that the journey of high honour lies not 
in plain ways. Therefore going thither, and taking sufiicient 
security that Plexirtus should be delivered if I were victorious, 
I undertook the combat : and to make short, excellent lady, and 
not to trouble your ears with recounting a terrible matter, so was 
my weakness blessed from above that, without dangerous wounds, 
I slew that monster, which hundreds durst not attempt ; to so 
great admiration of many, who from a safe place might look on 
that there was order given, to have the 'fight both by sculpture 
and picture, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the old 
nobleman so well liked me that he loved me ; only bewailing my 
virtue had been employed to save a worse monster than I killed : 
whom yet, according to faith given, he delivered, and accompanied 
me to the kingdom of Pontus, whither I would needs in all speed 
go, to see whether it were possible for me, if perchance the day 
had been delayed, to come to the combat : but that, before I came, 
had been thus finished. 


"The virtuous Leonatus understanding two so good friends of 
his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one himself; 
where he did valiantly, and so did the king of Pontus. But the 
truth is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable 
Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the giants, 
and the taking of Otanes prisoner. To whom as he gave his life, 
so he got a noble friend, for so he gave his word to be, and he is 
well known to think himself greater in being subject to that, than 
in the greatness of his principality. 

"But thither, understanding of our being there, flocked great 
multitudes of many great persons, and even of princes, especially 
those whom we had made beholding unto us : as, the kings of 
Phrygia, Bithynia, with those two hurt of Pontus and Galatia, and 
Otanes the prisoner, by Musidorus set free ; and thither came 
Plexirtus of Trebisond, and Antiphilus then king of Lycia ; with 
as many more great princes, drawn either by our reputation, or 
by willingness to acknowledge themselves obliged unto us for what 
we had done for the others. So as in those parts of the world, 
I think, in many hundreds of years there was not seen so royal 
an assembly, where nothing was let pass to do us the highest 
honours ; which such persons, who might command both purses 
and inventions, could perform : all from all sides bringing unto 
us right royal presents, which we, to avoid both unkindness and 
importunity, liberally received ; and not content therewith, would 
needs accept as from us their crowns, and acknowledge to hold 
them of us : with many other excessive honours, which would not 
suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe unto you. 

"But we quickly aweary thereof, hasted to Greece-ward, led 
thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened 
principally because I understood that Anaxius with open mouth 
of defamation had gone thither to seek me, and was now come 
to Peloponnesus, where from court to court he made enquiry of 
me, doing yet himself so noble deeds as might hap to authorize 
an ill opinion of me. We therefore suffered but short delays, 
desiring to take this country in our way, so renowned over the 
world that no prince could pretend height, nor beggar lowness, 
to bar him from the sound thereof : renowned indeed, not so much 
for the ancient praises attributed thereunto, as for the having in 
it Argalus and Ainphialus, two knights of such rare prowess, as 
we desired especially to know, and yet by far, not so much for that, 
as without suffering of comparison for the beauty of you and your 
sister, which makes all indifferent judges that speak thereof, 
account this country as a temple of deities. But those causes 
indeed moving us to .come by this land, we embarked ourselves 
in the next port, whither all those princes (saving Antiphilus, who 


returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry longer from Erona) 
conveyed us. And there found we a ship most royally furnished 
by Plexirtus, who had made all things so proper, as well for our 
defence, as ease, that all the other princes greatly commended 
him for it, who seeming a quite altered man, had nothing but 
repentance in his eyes, friendship in his gesture, and virtue in his 
mouth : so that we, who had promised the sweet Zelmane to 
pardon him, now not only forgave, but began to favour, persuading 
ourselves with a youthful credulity that perchance things were not 
so evil as we took them, and as it were, desiring our own memory 
that it might be so. But so were we licensed from those princes, 
truly not without tears, especially of the virtuous Leonatus, who 
with the king of Pontus would have come with us, but that we, 
in respect of the one's young wife, and both their new settled 
kingdoms, would not suffer it. Then would they have sent whole 
fleets to guard us ; but we that desired to pass secretly into Greece, 
made them leave that motion when they found that more ships 
than one would be displeasing unto us. But so committing 
ourselves unto the uncertain discretion of the wind, we (then 
determining as soon as we came to Greece to take the names of 
Daiphantus and Palladius, as well for our own promises to 
Zelmane, as because we desired to come unknown into Greece) 
left the Asian shore full of princely persons, who even upon their 
knees recommended our safeties to the devotion of their chief 
desires, among whom none had been so officious, though I dare 
affirm, all quite contrary to his unfaithfulness, as Plexirtus. 

" And so having failed almost two days, looking for nothing, but 
when we might look upon the land, a grave man, whom we had 
seen of great trust with Plexirtus, and was sent as our principal 
guide, came unto us, and with a certain kind manner mixed with 
shame, and repentance, began to tell us that he had taken such a 
love unto us, considering our youth and fame, that though he were 
a servant, and a servant of such trust about Plexirtus, as that he 
had committed unto him even those secrets of his heart, which 
abhorred all other knowledge, yet he rather chose to reveal at this 
time a most pernicious counsel, than by concealing it bring to ruin 
those whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and 
told us, that Plexirtus (in hope thereby to have Artaxia, endowed 
with the great kingdom of Armenia, to his wife) had given him 
order, when we were near Greece, to find some opportunity to 
murder us, bidding him to take us asleep, because he had seen 
what we could do waking. ' Now, Sirs,' said he, ' I would rather 
a thousand times lose my life than have my remembrance, while 
I live, poisoned with such a mischief : and therefore if it were only 
I, that knew herein the king's order, then should my disobedience 

fiooK 11.] ARCADIA ^49 

be a warrant of your safety. But to one more,' said he, ' namely 
the captain of the ship, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching 
the effect of murdering you, though I think laying the cause rather 
upon an old grudge, than his hope of Artaxia. And myself, before 
the consideration of your excellencies had drawn love and pity 
into my mind, imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such 
a mischief: therefore I wish you to stand upon your guard, 
assuring you that what I can do for your safety, you shall see, if 
it come to the push, by me performed.' We thanked him, as the 
matter indeed deserved, and from that time would no more disarm 
ourselves, nor the one sleep without his friend's eyes waked for 
him ; so that it delayed the going forward of their bad enterprise, 
while they thought it rather chance, than providence, which made 
us so behave ourselves. 

" But when we came within half a day's sailing of the shore, 
so that they saw it was speedily, or not at all to be done ; then, 
and I remember it was about the first watch in the night, came the 
captain and whispered the counsellor in the ear : but he, as it 
would seem, dissuaded him from it : the captain, who had been 
a pirate from his youth, and often blooded in it, with a loud voice 
swore that if Plexirtus bade him, he would not stick to kill God 
himself. And therewith called his mates, and in the King's name 
willed them to take us alive or dead, encouraging them with 
the spoil of us, which he said, jnd indeed was true, would yield 
many exceeding rich jewels. But the counsellor, according to his 
promise, commanded them they should not commit such a villainy, 
protesting that he would stand between them and the king's anger 
therein. Wherewith the captain enraged: 'Nay,' said he, 'then 
we must begin with this traitor himself,' and therewith gave him 
a sore blow upon the head, who honestly did the best he could 
to revenge himself. 

" But then we knew it time rather to encounter, than wait for 
mischief. And so against the captain we went, who straight was 
environed with most part of the soldiers and mariners. And yet 
the truth is, there were some, whom either the authority of the 
counsellor, doubt of the king's mind, or liking of us, made draw 
their swords of our side, so that quickly it grew a most confused 
fight. For the narrowness of the place, the darkness of time, 
and the uncertainty in such a tumult how to know friends from 
.foes, made the rage of the swords rather guide than be guided 
by their masters. For my cousin and me, truly I think we never 
performed less in any place, doing no other hurt than the defence 
of ourselves, and succouring them who came, for it, drove us to : 
for not discerning perfectly, who were for, or against us, we thought 
it less evil to spare a foe, than spoil a friend. But from the highest 

iS6 ARCADIA [book u. 

to the lowest part of the ship there was no place left, without cries 
of murdering, and murdered persons. The captain I happened a 
while to fight withal, but was driven to part with him by hearing 
the cry of the counsellor, who received a mortal wound, mistaken 
of one of his own side. 

" Some of the wiser would call to parley, and wish peace : but 
while the words of peace were in their mouths, some of their evil 
auditors gave them death for their hire. So that no man almost 
could conceive hope of living, but by being last alive : and 
therefore every one was willing to make himself room, by 
dispatching almost any other : so that the great number in the 
ship was reduced to exceeding few, when of those few the most 
part weary of those troubles, leapt into the boat, which was fast 
to the ship ; but while they that were first were cutting off the rope 
that tied it, others came leaping in so disorderly that they drowned 
both the boat and themselves. 

" But while even in that little remnant, like the children of 
Cadmus, we continued still to slay one another, a fire, which, 
whether by the desperate malice of some, or intention to separate, 
or accidentally, while all things were cast up and down, it should 
seem had taken a good while before, but never heeded of us ; 
who only thought to preserve or revenge, now violently burst 
out in many places and began to master the principal parts of the 
ship. Then necessity made us see, that a common enemy sets 
one at a civil war : for that little all we are, as if we had been 
waged by some man to quench a fire, straight went to resist that 
furious enemy by all art and labour : but it was too late, for already 
it did embrace and devour from the stern to the waist of the ship : 
so as labouring in vain, we were driven to get up to the prow of 
the ship, by the work of nature seeking to preserve life as long 
as we could ; while truly it was a strange and ugly sight to see 
so huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be in the sea ; and in the 
night, as if it had come to light as to death. And by and by it 
had burned off the mast, which all this while had proudly borne 
the sail, the wind, as might seem, delighted to carry fire and blood 
in his mouth, but now it fell overboard, and the fire growing 
nearer us, it was not only terrible in respect of what we were to 
attend, but insupportable through the heat of it. 

" So that we were constrained to bide it no longer, but disarming 
and stripping ourselves, and laying ourselves upon such things as 
we thought might help our swimming to the land, too far for our 
strength to bear us, my cousin and I threw ourselves into the sea. 
But I had swam a very little way when I felt, by reason of a 
wound I had, that I should not be able to abide the travel : and 
therefore seeing the mast, whose tackling had been burnt off, float 

sooK 11.] Arcadia 251 

clear from the ship, I swam unto it, and getting on it, I found mine 
own sword, which by chance, when I threw it away, caught by a 
piece of canvas, had hung to the mast. I was glad because I 
loved it well, but gladder, when I saw at the other end the captain 
of the ship, and of all this mischief, who having a long pike, belike 
had borne himself up with that till he had set himself upon the - 
mast. But when I perceived him, 'Villain,' said I, 'dost thou 
think to over-live so many honest men whom thy falsehood hath 
brought to destruction ? ' with that bestriding the mast, I got by 
little and little towards him after such a manner as boys are wont, 
if ever you saw that sport, when they ride the wild mare. And he 
perceiving my intention, like a fellow that had much more courage 
than honesty, set himself to resist : but I had in short space 
gotten within him, and, giving him a sound blow, sent him to 
feed fishes. But there myself remained, until by pirates I was 
taken up, and among them again taken prisoner, and brought into 

"But what," said Philoclea, "became of your cousin Musidorus?" 
" Lost," said Pyrocles. " Ah, my Pyrocles," said Philoclea, " I am 
glad I have taken you. I perceive you lovers do not always say 
truly ; as though I knew not your cousin Dorus the shepherd ?" 
" Life of my desires," said Pyrocles, " what is mine, even to my 
soul, is yours, but the secret of my friend is not mine. But if you 
know so much, then I may truly say, he is lost since he is no more 
his own. But I perceive your noble sister and you are great friends, 
and well doth it become you so to be." " But go forward, dear 
Pyrocles, I long to hear out till your meeting me : for there to 
me-ward is the best part of your story." " Ah sweet Philocleaj" 
said Pyrocles, " do you think I can think so precious leisure as 
this well spent in talking ? are your eyes a fit book, think you, to 
read a tale upon ? is my love quiet enough to be an historian ? 
dear princess, be gracious unto me." And then he fain would 
have remembered to have forgot himself. But she with a sweetly 
disobeying grace, desired him that her desire once for ever might 
serve, that no spot might disgrace that love which shortly 
she hoped should be to the world warrantable. Fain he would 
not have heard, till she threatened anger ; and then the poor lover 
durst not, because he durst not. "Nay, I pray thee, dear 
Pyrocles," said she, "let me have my story." "Sweet princess," 
said he, " give my thoughts a little respite : and if it please you, 
since this time must be so spoiled, yet it shall suffer the less harm 
if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice, and let me know how the 
good queen Erona was betrayed into such danger, and why Plangus 
sought me. For indeed I should pity greatly any mischance 
fallen to that princess." " I will," said Philoclea, smiling, " so you 

252 ARCADIA tBooK It. 

give me your word your hands shall be quiet auditors." " They 
shall," said he, " because subject." 

Then began she to speak, but with so pretty and delightful a 
majesty, when she set her countenance to tell the matter, that 
Pyrocles could not choose but rebel so far as to kiss her. She 
would have pulled her head away, and spoke, but while she spoke, 
he kissed, and it seemed he fed upon her words ; but she got 
away. " How will you have your discourse," said she, " without 
you let my lips alone ? " He yielded, and took her hand. " On 
this," said he, " will I revenge my wrong ; " and so began to make 
much of that hand, when her tale, and his delight were interrupted 
by Miso, who taking her time, while Basihus's back was turned, 
came unto them, and told Philoclea, she deserved she knew what 
for leaving her mother, being evil at ease, to keep company with 
strangers. But Philoclea telling her that she was there by her 
father's commandment, she went away muttering that though her 
back and her shoulders and her neck were broken, yet as long as 
her tongue would wag, it should do her errand to her mother ; and 
so went up to Gynecia, who was at that time miserably vexed with 
this manner of dream. It seemed unto her to be in a place full of 
thorns, which so molested her that she could neither abide standing 
still, nor tread safely going forward. In this case she thought 
Zelmane being upon a fair hill, delightful to the eye, and easy in 
appearance, called her thither, whither with such anguish being 
come, Zelmane was vanished and she found nothing but a dead 
body like unto her husband, which seeming at the first with a 
strange smell to infect her, as she was ready likewise within a 
while to die ; the dead body, she thought, took her in his arms, 
and said, " Gynecia, leave all, for here is thy only rest." 
With that she awaked, crying very loud, " Zelmane, Zelmane.'' 
But remembering herself, and seeing Basilius by (her guilty 
conscience more suspecting than being suspected) she turned her 
call, and called for Philoclea. Miso forthwith like a valiant shrew, 
looking at Basilius, as though she would speak though she died 
for it, told Gynecia that her daughter had been a whole hour 
together in secret talk with Zelmane. " And " said she, " for my 
part I could not be heard, your daughters are brought up in such 
awe, though I told her of your pleasure sufficiently." Gynecia as 
if she had heard her last doom pronounced against her, with a 
side look and changed countenance, " O my lord," said she, " what 
mean you to suffer those young folks together?" Basilius, that 
aimed nothing at the mark of her suspicion, smiling, took her in 
his arms : " Sweet wife," said he, " I thank you for your care of 
your child ; but they must be youths of other metal than Zelmane 
that can endanger her." "O but ," cried Gynecia, and there- 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 253 

with she stayed, for then indeed she did suffer a right conflict 
betwixt the force of love, and rage of jealousy. Many times was 
she about to satisfy the spite of her mind, and tell Basilius how 
she knew Zelmane to be far otherwise than the outward appearance. 
But those many times were all put back by the manifold objections 
of her vehement love. Fain she would have barred her daughter's 
hap, but loth she was to cut off her own hope. But now, as if her 
life had been set upon a wager of quick rising, as weak as she was, 
she got up ; though Basilius (with a kindness flowing only from 
the fountain of unkindness, being indeed desirous to win his 
daughter as much time as might be) was loth to suffer it, swearing 
he saw sickness in her face, and therefore was loth she should 
adventure the air. 

But the great and wretched lady Gynecia, possessed with those 
devils of love and jealousy, did rid herself from her tedious 
husband : and taking nobody with her, going toward them ; " O 
jealousy," said she, "the frenzy of wise folks, the well-wishing 
spite, and unkind carefulness, the self-punishment for others 
faults, and self-misery in others happiness, the cousin of envy, 
daughter of love, and mother of hate, how could'st thou so quietly 
get thee a seat in the unquiet heart of Gynecia ! Gynecia," said 
she sighing, " thought wise and once virtuous ! alas ! it is thy 
breeder's power which plants thee there : it is the flaming agony 
of affection, that works the chilling access of thy fever, in such 
sort, that nature gives place ; the growing of my daughter seems 
the decay of myself ; the blessings of a mother turn to the curses 
of a competitor ; and the fair face of Philoclea appears more 
horrible in my sight than the image of death." Then remembered 
she this song, which she thought took a right measure of her 
present mind. 

With two strange fires of equal heat possessed, 
. The one of love, the other of jealousy, 
Both still do work, in neither I find rest : 

For both, alas, their strength together tie : 
The one aloft doth hold, the other high. 

Love wakes the jealous eye, lest thence it moves : 
The jealous eye, the more it looks it loves. 

Those fires increase ; in those I daily burn. 

They feed on me, and with my wings do fly : 
My lovely joys to doleful ashes turn : 

Their flames mount up, my prayers prostrate lie ; 
They live in force ; I quite consumed die. 
One wonder yet far passes my conceit. 
The fuel small ; how be the fires so great ? 

254 ARCADIA [book n. 

But her unleisured thoughts ran not over the ten first words ; 
but going with a pace not so much too fast for her body, as slow 
for her mind, she found them together, who after Miso's departure 
had left their tale, and determined what to say to Basilius. But 
full abashed was poor Philoclea, whose conscience now began to 
know cause of blushing, for first salutation, receiving an eye from 
her mother, full of the same disdainful scorn which Pallas showed 
to poor Arachne that durst contend with her for the price of well 
weaving : yet did the force of love so much rule her that, though 
for Zelmane's sake she did detest her, yet for Zelmane's sake she 
used no harder words to her than to bid her go home, and 
accompany her solitary father. 

Then began she to display to Zelmane the store-house of her 
deadly desires, when suddenly the confused rumour of a mutinous 
multitude gave just occasion to Zelmane to break off any such 
conference, for well she found they were not friendly voices they 
heard, and to retire with as much diligence as conveniently they 
could towards the lodge. Yet before they could win the lodge by 
twenty paces, they were overtaken by an unruly sort of clowns, 
and other rebels, which like a violent flood, were carried, they 
themselves knew not whither. But as soon as they came within 
perfect discerning those ladies, like enraged beasts, without respect 
of their estates, or pity of their sex, they began to run against 
them, as right villains thinking ability to do hurt to be a great 
advancement ; yet so many as they were, so many almost were 
their minds, all knit together only in madness. Some cried, 
"take;" some, "kill;" some, "save." But even they that cried 
" save," ran for company with them that meant to kill. Everyone 
commanded, none obeyed, he only seemed chief captain, that was 
most rageful. 

Zelmane, whose virtuous courage was ever awake, drew out her 
sword, which upon those ill-armed churls giving as many wounds 
as blows, and as many deaths almost as wounds, lightning courage, 
and thundering smart upon them, kept them at a bay, while the 
two ladies got themselves into the lodge, out of the which Basilius, 
having put on an armour long untried, came to prove his authority 
among his subjects, or at least, to adventure his life with his dear 
mistress, to whom he brought a shield, while the ladies trembling 
attended by the issue of this dangerous adventure. But Zelmane 
made them perceive the odds between an eagle and a kite, with 
such nimble steadiness, and assured nimbleness, that while one 
was running back for fear, his fellow had her sword in his 

And by and by was her heart and her help well increased by 
the coming in of Dorus, who having been making of hurdles for 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 255 

his master's sheep, heard the horrible cries of this mad multitude, 
and having straight represented before the eyes of his careful 
love, the peril wherein the soul of his soul might be, he went to 
Pamela's lodge, but found her in a cave hard by, with Mopsa and 
Dametas, who at that time would not have opened the entry to 
his father. And therefore leaving them there, as in a place safe, 
both for being strong and unknown, he ran as the noise guided 
him. But when he saw his friend in such danger among them, 
anger and contempt, asking no counsel but of courage, made him 
run among them, with no other weapon but his sheep-hook, and 
with that overthrowing one of the villains, took away a two-hand 
sword from him, and withal helped him from ever being ashamed 
of losing it. Then lifting up his brave head, and flashing terror 
into their faces, he made arms and legs go complain to the earth, 
how evil their masters had kept them. Yet the multitude still 
growing, and the very killing wearying them, fearing lest 
in long fight they should be conquered with conquering, they 
drew back towards the lodge ; but drew back in such sort, that 
still their terror went forward like a valiant mastiff, whom, when 
his master pulls back by the tail from the bear, with whom he had 
already interchanged a hateful embracement, though his pace be 
backward, his gesture is forward, his teeth and his eyes threatening 
more in the retiring than they did in the advancing : so guided 
they themselves homeward, never stepping step backward, but 
that they proved themselves masters of the ground where they 

Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellow, a tailor by 
occupation, who fetching his courage only from their going back, 
began to bow his knees, and very fencer-like to draw near to 
Zelmane. But as he came within her distance, turning his sword 
very nicely about his crown, Basilius, with a side blow, struck 
off his nose, he (being suitor to a seamster's daughter, and therefore 
not a little grieved for such a disgrace) stooped down, because he 
had heard that if it were fresh put to, it would cleave on again. 
But as his hand was on the ground to bring his nose to his head, 
Zelmane with a blow sent his head to his nose. That saw a 
butcher, a butcherly chuff indeed, who that day was sworn brother 
to him in a cup of wine, and lifted up a great leaver, calling Zelmane 
all the vile names of a butcherly eloquence. But she letting slip 
the blow of the leaver, hit him so surely upon the side of the face 
that she left nothing but the nether jaw, where the tongue still 
wagged, as willing to say more if his master's remembrance had 
served. " O ! " said a miller that was half drunk, " see the luck of a 
good-fellow," and with that word ran with a pitchfork at Dorus ; but 
the nirableness of the wine carried his head so fast that it made it 

2S6 ARCADIA [book n, 

over-run his feet, so that he fell withal just between the legs of 
Dorus, who setting his foot on his neck, though he offered two 
milch kine and four fat hogs for his life, thrust his sword quite 
through, from one ear to the other ; which took it very unkindly, 
to feel such news before they heard of them, instead of hearing, 
to be put to such feeling. But Dorus, leaving the miller to vomit 
his soul out in wine and blood, with his two-hand sword struck off 
another quite by the waist, who the night before had dreamed he 
was grown a couple, and, interpreting it that he should be married, 
had bragged of his dream that morning among his neighbours. 
But that blow astonished quite a poor painter, who stood by with a 
pike in his hands. This painter was to counterfeit the skirmish 
between the Centaurs and Lapithes, and had been very desirous to 
see some notable wounds, to be able the more lively to express 
them ; and this morning, being carried by the stream of this 
company, the foolish fellow was even delighted to see the effect 
of blows. But this last, happening near him, so amazed him that 
he stood stock still, while Dorus, with a turn of his sword, struck 
off both his hands. And so the painter returned, well skilled in 
wounds, but with never a hand to perform his skill. 

In this manner they recovered the lodge, and gave the rebels a 
face of wood of the outside. But they then, though no more 
furious, yet more outrageous when they saw no resister, went about 
with pickaxe to the wall, and fire to the gate, to get themselves 
entrance. Then did the two ladies mix fear with love, especially 
Philoclea, who ever caught hold of Zelmane, so, by the folly of 
love, hindering the succour which she desired. But Zelmane 
seeing no way of defence, nor time to deliberate (the number of 
those villains still increasing, and their madness still increasing 
with their number) thought it the only means, to go beyond their 
expectation with an unused boldness, and with danger to avoid 
danger, and therefore opened again the gates ; and Dorus and 
Basilius standing ready for her defence, she issued again among 
them. The blows she had dealt before, though all in general were 
hasty, made each of them in particular take breath, before they 
brought them suddenly over-near her, so that she had time to get 
up to the judgment-seat of the prince, which, according to the 
guess of that country, was before the court gate. There she paused 
a while, making sign with her hand unto them, and withal, 
speaking aloud that she had something to say unto them that 
would please them. But she was answered a while with nothing 
but shouts and cries ; and some beginning to throw stones at her, 
not daring to approach her. But at length a young farmer, who 
might do most among the country sort, and was caught in a little 
affection towards Zelmane, hoping by his kindness to have some 


good of her, desired them if they were honest men, to hear the 
woman speak. " Fie fellows, fie," said he, " what will all the maids 
in our town say if so many tall men shall be afraid to hear a fair 
wench? I swear unto you, by no little ones, I had rather give 
my team of oxen than we should show ourselves so uncivil wights. 
Besides, I tell you true, I have heard it of old men counted 
wisdom, to hear much, and say little." His sententious speech so 
prevailed, that the most part began to listen. Then she, with such 
efficacy of gracefulness, and such a quiet magnanimity represented 
in her face in this uttermost peril, that the more the barbarbus 
people looked, the more it fixed their looks upon her, in this sort 
began unto them. 

"It is no small comfort unto me," said she, "having to speak 
something unto you for your own behoofs, to find that I have 
to deal with such a people, who show indeed in themselves the 
right nature of valour : which as it leaves no violence unattempted, 
while the choler is nourished with resistance, so when the subject 
of their wrath doth of itself unlooked for oflfer itself into their 
hands, it makes them at least take a pause before they determine 
cruelties. Now then first, before I come to the principal matter, 
have I to say unto you ; that your prince Basilius himself in 
person is within this lodge, and was one of the three, whom a few 
of you went about to fight withal : " and (this she said, not 
doubting but they knew it well enough, but because she would 
have them imagine that the prince might think that they did not 
know it) " by him I am sent unto you, as from a prince to his well 
approved subjects, nay as from a father to beloved children, to 
know what it is that hath bred just quarrel among you, or who 
they be that have any way wronged you ; what it is with which 
you are displeased, or of which you are desirous ? This he 
requires, and indeed, for he knows your faithfulness, he commands 
you presently to set down and choose among yourselves, someone, 
who may relate your griefs or demands unto him." 

This, being more than they hoped for from their prince, assuaged 
well their fury, and many of them consented, especially the young 
farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the demands 
that he might have Zelmane for his wife, but when they began to 
talk of their griefs, never bees made such a confused humming : 
the town dwellers deinanding putting down of imposts ; the country 
fellows laying out of commons : some would have the prince keep 
his court in one place, some in another : all cried out to have 
new counsellors ; but when they should think of any new, they 
liked them as well as any other that they could remember, 
especially they would have the treasure so looked unto, as that 
he should never need to take any more subsidies. At length they 

2S8 ARCADIA [book n. 

fell to direct contrarieties. For the artisans they would have corn 
and wine set at a lower price, and bound to be kept so still : the 
ploughmen, vine-labourers, and the farmers would none of that. 
The countrymen demanded that every man might be free in the 
chief towns ; that could not the burgesses like of. The peasants 
would have all the gentlemen destroyed, the citizens, especially 
such as cooks, barbers, and those other that lived most on 
gentlemen, would but have them reformed. And of each side 
were like divisions, one neighbourhood beginning to find fault with 
another ; but no confusion was greater than of particular men's 
likings and dislikings : one dispraising such a one, whom another 
praised, and demanding such a one to be punished, whom the 
other would have exalted. No less ado was there about choosing 
him, who should be their spokesman. The finer sort of burgesses, 
as merchants, prentices, and cloth-workers, because of their riches, 
disdaining the baser occupations ; and they because of their 
number, as much disdaining them ; all they scorning the country- 
men's ignorance, and the countrymen suspecting as much their 
cunning : so that Zelmane (finding that their united rage was now 
grown, not only to dividing, but to a crossing of one another, and 
that the mislike grown among themselves did well allay the heat 
against her) made tokens again unto them, as though she took great 
care of their well-doing, and were afraid of their falling out, that she 
would speak unto them. They now grow jealous one of another, the 
stay having engendered division, and division having manifested 
their weakness, were willing enough to hear, the most part striving 
to show themselves willinger than their fellows : which Zelmane, 
by the acquaintance she had had with such kind of humours soon 
perceiving, with an angerless bravery, and an unabashed mildness, 
in this manner spoke unto them. 

"An unused thing it is, and I think not heretofore seen, O 
Arcadians, that a woman should give public counsel to men, 
a stranger to the country people, and that lastly in such a presence 
by a private person, the regal throne should be possessed. But 
the strangeness of your action makes that used for virtue, which 
your violent necessity imposeth. For certainly a woman may 
well speak to such men, who have forgotten all man-like govern- 
ment; a stranger may with reason instruct such subjects that 
neglect due points of subjection ; and is it marvel this place is 
entered into by another, since your own prince, after thirty years' 
government, dare not show his face unto faithful people? hear 
therefore, O Arcadians, and be ashamed ; against whom hath this 
zealous rage been stirred? whither have been bent those manful 
weapons of yours ? in this quiet harmless lodge there be harboured 
no Argians, your ancient enemies ; nor Laconians, your now 


feared neighbours. Here be neither hard landlords, nor biting 
usurers. Here lodge none, but such, as either you have great 
cause to love, or no cause to hate : here being none, besides your 
prince, princess, and their children, but myself. Is it I then, 

Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed ? am I the mark 
of your vehement quarrel ? if it be so, that innocency shall not be 
stopped for fury ; if it be so, that the law of hospitality, so long and 
holily observed among you, may not defend a stranger fled to 
your arms for succour : if in fine, it be so, that so many 
valiant men's courages can be inflamed to the mischief of one 
silly woman ; I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to your 
wrath. Exercise on me your indignation, so it go no farther ; 

1 am content to pay the great favours I have received among you, 
with my life not ill-deserving: I present here unto you, O 
Arcadians, if that may satisfy you ; rather than you, called over 
the world the wise and quiet Arcadians, should be so vain, as 
to attempt that alone, which all the rest of your country will abhor ; 
than you shall show yourselves so ungrateful as to forget the fruit 
of so many years peaceable government ; or so unnatural, as not 
to have with the holy name of your natural prince, any fury 
overmastered. For such a hellish madness, I know, did never 
enter into your hearts as to attempt anything against his person ; 
which no successor, though never so hateful, will ever leave, for 
his own sake, unrevenged. Neither can your wonted valour be 
turned to such a baseness, as instead of a prince, delivered unto 
you by so many royal ancestors, to take the tyrannous yoke of 
your fellow subject, in whom the innate means will bring forth 
ravenous covetousness and the newness of his estate suspectful 
cruelty. Imagine, what could your enemies more wish unto 
you than to see your own estate with your own hands undermined ? 
O what would your forefathers say if they lived at this time, 
and saw their offspring defacing such an excellent principaUty, 
which they with much labour and blood so wisely have established ? 
do you think them fools, that saw you should not enjoy your vines, 
your cattle, no not your wives and children without government ? 
and that there could be no government without a magistrate, and 
no magistrate without obedience, and no obedience where everyone 
upon his own private passion may interpret the doings of the 
rulers? let your wits make your present example a lesson to 
you. What sweetness, in good faith, find you in your present 
condition ; what choice of choice find you, if you had lost Basilius? 
under whose ensign would you go, if your enemies should invade 
you ? if you cannot agree upon one to speak for you, how will you 
agree upon one to fight for you ? but with this fear of I cannot 
tell what one is troubled, and with that past wrong another is 

26o ARCADIA [book n. 

grieved. And I pray you did the sun ever bring you a fruitful 
harvest but that it was more hot than pleasant ? have any of you 
children that be not sometimes cumbersome ? have any of you 
fathers that be not sometimes wearish ? wfhat, shall we curse the 
sun, hate our children, or disobey our fathers — but what need I use 
those words, since I see in your countenances, now virtuously 
settled, nothing else but love and duty to him, by whom for your 
only sakes, the government is embraced. For all that is done, 
he doth not only pardon you, but thank you ; judging the action 
by the minds, and not the minds by the action. Your griefs, and 
desires whatsoever, and whensoever you list, he will consider of, 
and to his consideration it is reason you should refer them. So 
then, to conclude ; the uncertainty of his estate made you take 
arms ; now you see him well ; with the same love lay them down. 
If now you end, as I know you will, he will make no other account 
of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must confess, over vehement 
affection, the only continuance might prove a wickedness. But 
it is not so, I see very well, you began with zeal, and will end 
with reverence.'' 

The action Zelmane used, being beautified by nature and 
apparelled with skill, her gestures being such, that, as her words 
did paint out her mind, so they served as a shadow to make the 
picture more lively and sensible, with the sweet clearness of her 
voice, rising and falling kindly as the nature of the word and 
efficacy of the matter required, altogether in such an admirable 
person, whose incomparable valour they had well felt, whose 
beauty did pierce through the thick dulness of their senses, gave 
such a way unto her speech through the rugged wilderness of 
their imaginations, who, besides they were stricken in admiration 
of her, as of more tharr a human creature, where cooled with 
taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leisure that instead 
of roaring cries_ there was now heard nothing but a confused 
muttering, whether her saying were to be followed : betwixt fear 
to pursue, and loathness to leave, most of them could have been 
content it had never been begun, but how to end it, each afraid 
of his companion, they knew not, finding it far easier to tie, than 
to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no evil way in such 
mutinies, to give the mutinous some occasion of such service as 
they might think, in their own judgment, would countervail their 
trespass, withal to take the more assured possession of their minds, 
which she feared might begin to waver. 

"Loyal Arcadians," said she, "now do I offer unto you the 
manifesting of your duties : all those that have taken arms for the 
prince's safety, let them turn their backs to the gate, with their 
weapons bent again such as would hurt his sacred person." " O 


weak trust of the many-headed multitude, whom inconstancy only 
doth guide to well-doing, who can set confidence there where 
company takes away shame, and each may lay the fault on his 
fellow?" So said a crafty fellow among them, named Clinias, to 
himself, when he saw the word no sooner out of Zelmane's mouth, 
but there were some shouts of joy, with, " God save Basilius," and 
divers of them with much jollity grown to be his guard that but 
little before meant to be his murderers. 

This Clinias in his youth had been a scholar so far as to learn 
rather words than manners, and of words rather plenty than order ; ■ 
and often had used to be an actor in tragedies, where he had 
learned, besides a slidingness of language, acquaintance with many 
passions, and to frame his face to bear the figure of them : long 
used to the eyes and ears of men, and to reckon no fault but 
shamefac'dness in nature ; a most notable coward, and yet more 
strangely than rarely venturous in privy practices. 

This fellow was become of near trust to Cecropia, Amphialus's 
mother, so that he was privy to all the mischievous devices where- 
with she went about to ruin Basilius and his children, for the 
advancing of her son, and though his education had made him full 
of tongue, yet his love to be doing, taught him in any evil to be 
secret, and had by his mistress been used ever since the strange 
retiring of Basilius, to whisper rumours in the people's ears : and 
this time, finding great aptness in the multitude, was one of the 
chief that set them in the uproar, though quite without the consent 
of Amphialus, who would not for all the kingdoms of the world so 
have adventured the life of Philoclea. But now perceiving the 
flood of their fury begun to ebb, he thought in pohcy to take the 
first of the tide, so that no man cried louder than he upon Basilius. 
And some of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to the rest, he 
caused two or three of his mates that were at his commandment to 
lift him up, and then as if he had a prologue to utter, he began 
with nice gravity to demand audience. But few attending what 
he said, with vehement gesture, as if he would tear the stars from 
the skies he fell to crying out so loud that not only Zelmane, but 
Basilius might hear him. " O unhappy men, more mad than the 
giants that would have plucked Jupiter out of heaven, how long 
shall this rage continue? why do you not all throw down your 
weapons and submit yourselves to our good prince, our good 
Basilius, the Pelops of wisdom, and Minos of all good government ? 
when will you begin to believe me, and other honest and faithful 
subjects, that have done all we could to stop your fury." 

The farmer that loved Zelmane could abide him no longer. For 
as the first he was willing to speak of conditions, hoping to have 
gotten great sovereignties, and among the rest Zelmane ; so now 

263 ARCADIA [BOOK ii. 

perceiving, that the people, once anything down the hill from their 
fury, would never stay till they came to the bottom of absolute 
yielding, and so that he should be nearer fears of punishment than 
hopes of such advancement, he was one of them that stood most 
against the agreement : and to begin withal, disdaining this fellow 
should play the preacher, who had been one of the cheifest make- 
bates, struck him a great wound upon the face with his sword. 
The cowardly wretch fell down, crying for succour, and, scrambhng 
through the legs of them that were about him, got to the throne, 
where Zelmane took him and comforted him, bleeding for that was 
past, and quaking for fear of more. 

But as soon as the blow was given, as if ^olus had broke open 
the door to let all his winds out, no hand was idle, each one killing 
him that was next, for fear he should do as much to him. For 
being divided in minds, and not divided in companies, they that 
would yield to Basilius were intermingled with them that would 
not yield. Those men thinking their ruin stood upon it ; those 
men to get favour of their prince, converted their ungracious 
motion into their own bowels, and by a true judgment grew their 
own punishers. None were sooner killed than those that had 
been leaders in the disobedience : who by being so, had taught 
them, that they did lead disobedience to the same leaders. And 
many times it fell out that they killed them that were of their own 
faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But 
then came down Zelmane ; and Basilius with Dorus issued, and 
sometimes seeking to draw together those of their party, sometimes 
laying indifferently among tbem, made such havoc, among the rest 
Zelmane striking the farmer to the heart with her sword, as before 
she had done with her eyes, that in a while all they of the contrary 
side were put to flight, and fled to certain woods upon the frontiers, 
where feeding wildly, and drinking only water, they were disciplined 
for their drunken riots : many of them being slain in the chase, 
about a score only escaping. But when those late rebels, now 
soldiers, were returned from the chase, Basilius calling them 
together, partly for policy's sake, but principally because Zelmane 
before had spoken it, which was to him more than a divine 
ordinance, he pronounced their general pardon, willing them to 
return to their houses, and hereafter be more circumspect in their 
proceedings, which they did most of them with sharp marks of 
their folly. But imagining Clinias to be one of the chief that had 
bred this good alteration, he gave him particular thanks, and 
withal willed him to make him know how this frenzy had entered 
into the people. 

Clinias purposing indeed to tell him the truth of all ; saving 
•what did touch himself, or Cecropia, first dipping his hand in the 


blood of his wound : " Now by this blood," said he, " which is 
more dear to me than all the rest that is in my body, since it is 
spent for your safety : this tongue, perchance unfortunate, but 
never false, shall not now begin to lie unto my prince, of me most 
beloved." Then stretching out his hand, and making vehement 
countenances the ushers to his speeches, in such manner of terms 
recounted this accident. " Yesterday," said he, " being your birth- 
day, in the goodly green two miles hence before the city of 
Enispus, to do honour to the day, where four or five thousand 
people, of all conditions, as I think, gathered together, spending 
all the day in dancing and other exercises, and when night came 
under tents and bows making great cheer, and meaning to observe 
a wassailling watch all that night for your sake. Bacchus, the 
learned say, was begot with thunder : I think, that made him ever 
since so full of stir and debate. Bacchus, indeed it was which 
sounded the first trumpet to this rude alarm. For that barbarous 
opinion being generally among them, to think with vice to do 
honour, and with activity in beastliness to show abundance of love, 
made most of them seek to show the depth of their affection in the 
depth of their draught. But being once well chafed with wine, 
having spent all the night, and some piece of the morning in such 
revelling, and emboldened by your absented manner of living, 
there was no matter their ears had ever heard of that grew not to 
be a subject of their winey conference. I speak it by proof : for 
I take witness of the gods, who never leave perjuries unpunished, 
that I often cried out against their impudency, and, when that 
would not serve, stopped mine ears because I would not be 
partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me to 
have mine ears and eyes defiled. Public affairs were mingled with 
private grudges : neither was any man thought of wit, that did not 
pretend some cause of mislike. Railing was counted the fruit of 
freedom, and saying nothing had his uttermost praise in ignorance. 
At the length, your sacred person, alas ! why did I live to hear it ? 
alas ! how do I breathe to utter it ? But your commandment doth 
not only enjoin obedience, but give me force ; your sacred person 
I say, fell to be their table-talk : a proud word swelling in their 
stomachs, and disdainful reproaches against so great a greatness 
having put on the show of greatness in their little minds : till at 
length the very unbridled use of words having increased fire in 
their minds, which God wot thought their knowledge notable, 
because they had at all no knowledge to condemn their own want 
of knowledge, they descended, O never to be forgotten presumption, 
to a direct dislike of your living from among them. Whereupon 
it were tedious to remember their far-fetched constructions. But 
the sum was, you disdained them : and what were the pomps of 


your estate, if their arms maintained you not ? who would call you 
a prince, if you had not a people, when certain of them of wretched 
estates, and worse minds, whose fortunes change could not impair, 
began to say that your government was to be looked into ; how 
the great treasures you had levied among them had been spent ; 
why none but great men and gentlemen could be admitted into 
counsel, that the commons, forsooth, were too plain-headed to say 
their opinions : but yet their blood and sweat must maintain all. 
Who could tell whether you were not betrayed in this place where 
you lived ? nay whether you did live or no ? therefore that it was 
time to come and see ; and if you were here, to know if Arcadia 
were grown loathsome in your sight, why you did not rid yourself 
of the trouble ? there would not want those that would take so fair 
a cumber in good part. Since the country was theirs, and the 
government an adherent to the country, why should they not 
consider of the one as well as inhabit the other? 'nay rather,' 
said they, 'let us begin that, which all Arcadia will follow. Let 
us deliver our prince from danger of practices, and ourselves from 
want of a prince. Let us do that which all the rest think. Let it 
be said that we only are not astonished with vain titles which have 
their force but in our force.' Lastly, to have said and heard so 
much was as dangerous as to have attempted : and to attempt 
they had the glorious name of liberty with them. Those words 
being spoken, like a furious storm, presently carried away their 
well inclined brains. What I, and some other of the honester sort 
could do was no more than if with a puff of breath, one should go 
about to make a sail go against a mighty wind, or, with one hand, 
stay the ruin of a mighty wall. So general grew this madness 
among them, there needed no drum, where each man cried, each 
spoke to other that spoke as fast to him, and the disagreeing 
sound of so many voices was the chief token of their unmeet 
agreement. Thus was their banquet turned to a battle, their 
winey mirths to bloody rages, and the happy prayers for your life 
to monstrous threatening of your estate ; the solemnizing your 
birth-day, tended to have been the cause of your funeral. But as 
a drunken rage hath, besides his wickedness, that folly, that the 
more it seeks to hurt the less it considers how to be able to hurt : 
they never weighed how to arm themselves, but took up everything 
for a weapon that fury offered to their hands. Many swords, 
pikes, and bills there were ; others took pitchforks and rakes, 
converting husbandry to soldiery : some caught hold of spits, 
things serviceable for life, to be the instruments of death. And 
there was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he 
drank your health, to use it, as he could, to your mischief. Thus 
armed, thus governed, forcing the unwilling, and heartening the 

BOOK 11.] ARCADIA 265 

willing, adding fury to fury, and increasing rage with running, they 
came headlong towards this lodge : no man, I dare say, resolved 
in his own heart what was the uttermost he would do when he 
came thither. But as mischief is of such nature, that it cannot 
stand but with strengthening one evil by another, and so multiply 
in itself, till it come to the highest and then fall with his own 
weight : so to their minds one passed the bounds of obedience, 
more and more wickedness opened itself, so that they, who first 
pretended to preserve you, then to reform you (I speak it in my 
conscience, and with a bleeding heart) now thought no safety for 
them, without murdering you. So as if the gods, who preserve 
you for the preservation of Arcadia, had not showed their miraculous 
power ; and that they had not used for instruments, both your own 
valour, not fit to be spoken of by so mean a mouth as mine, and 
some, I must confess, honest minds, whom alas ! why should I 
mention, since what we did, reached not to the hundredth part of 
our duty? our hands, I tremble to think of it, had destroyed all 
that, for which we have cause to rejoice that we are Arcadians." 

With that the fellow did wring his hands, and wrung out tears, 
so, that Basilius, who was not the sharpest piercer into masked 
minds, took a good liking to him ; and so much the more as he 
had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his mistress. And 
therefore pitying his wound, willed him to get him home and look 
well into it, and make the best search he could to know if there 
were any farther depth in this matter, for which he should be well 
rewarded. But before he went away, certain of the shepherds 
being come, for that day was appointed for their pastorals, he sent 
one of them to Philanax, and another to other principal noblemen, 
and cities thereabouts, to make thorough inquiry of this uproar, 
and withal to place such garrisons in all the towns and villages 
near unto him, that he might thereafter keep his solitary lodge in 
more security, upon the making of a fire, or ringing of a bell, 
having them in readiness for him. 

This Clinias, having his ear one way when his eye was another, 
had perceived, and therefore hastened away with mind to tell 
Crecopia that she was to take some speedy resolution, or else it 
were danger those examinations would both discover and ruin 
her ; and so went his way, leaving that httle company with 
embracements, and praising of Zelmane's excellent proceeding, 
to show, that no decking sets forth anything so much as affection. 
For as, while she stood at the discretion of those indiscreet rebels, 
every angry countenance any of them made seemed a knife laid 
upon their own throats ; so unspeakable was now their joy that 
they saw, besides her safety and their own, the same wrought, and 
safely wrought by her means, in whom they had placed all their 

266 ARCADIA [book n. 

delights. What examples Greece could ever allege of wit and 
fortitude, were set in rank of trifles, being compared to this action. 
But as they were in the midst of those unfeigned ceremonies, 
a cittern ill played on, accompanied with a hoarse voice, who 
seemed to sing mauger the mauses, and to be merry in spite of 
fortune, made them look the way of the ill-noised song. The song 
was this 

A hateful cure with hate to heal : 

A bloody help with blood to save : 
A foolish thing with fools to deal. 

Let him be bob'd, that bobs will have. 

But who by means of wisdom high 

Hath sav'd his charge ? it is even I. 

Let others deck their pride with scars, 
And of their wounds make brave lame shows : 

First let them die, then pass the stars. 
When rotten fame will tell their blows : 
But eye from blade, and ear from eye ; 
Who hath sav'd all ? it is even L 

They had soon found it was Dametas, who came with no less 
lifted up countenance than if he had passed over the bellies of all 
his enemies : so wise a point he thought he had performed in using 
the natural strength of the cave. But never was it his doing to 
come so soon thence till the coast were more assuredly clear : for it 
was a rule with him, that after a great storm there ever fell a few 
drops before it be fully finished. But Pamela, who had now 
experienced how much care doth solicit a lover's heart, used this 
occasion of going to her parents and sister, indeed as well for 
that cause, as being unquiet, till her eye might be assured how her 
shepherd had gone through the danger. 

But Basilius with the sight of Pamela, of whom almost his head, 
otherwise occupied, had left the wanted remembrance, was suddenly 
stricken into a devout kind of admiration, remembering the oracle, 
which according to the fawning humour of false hope, he interpreted 
now his own to his own best, and with the willing blindness of 
affection, because his mind ran wholly upon Zelmane, he thought 
the gods in their oracles did principally mind her. 

But as he was thinking deeply of the matter, one of the shepherds 
told him that Philanax was already come with an hundred horse 
in his company. For having by chance rode not far off the little 
desert, he had heard of this uproar, and so was come upon the 
spur, gathering a company of gentlemen, as fast as he could, to the 
succour of his master ; Basilius was glad of it ; but not willing to 
have him nor any other of the noblemen, see his mistress, he 

BOOK ii.j ARCADIA 267 

himself went out of the lodge : and so giving order unto him of 
placing garrisons, and examining those matters ; and Philanax 
with humble earnestness beginning to entreat him to leave off this 
solitary course, which already had been so dangerous unto him, 
" Well," said Basilius, " it may be ere long I will condescend unto 
your desire. In the meantime, take you the best order you can to 
keep me safe in my solitariness. But," said he, " do you remember, 
how earnestly you wrote unto me that I should not be moved by 
that oracle's authority, which brought me to this resolution ? " 
" Full well. Sir," answered Philanax, " for though it pleased you 
not as then to let me know what the oracle's words were, yet all 
oracles hold in, in my conceit, one degree of reputation, it sufficed 
me to know it was but an oracle which led you from your own 
course." " Well," said Basilius, " I will now tell you the words, 
which before I thought not good to do, because when all the events 
fall out, as some already have done, I may charge you with your 
incredulity." So he repeated in this sort. 

Thy elder care shall from thy careful face 

By princely mean be stolen, and yet not lost : 
Thy younger shall with nature's bliss embrace 

An uncouth love, which nature hateth most ; 
Both they themselves unto such two shall wed, 

Who at thy bear, as at a bar, shall plead ; 

Why thee, a living man, they had made dead. 
In thine own seat a foreign state shall sit ; 
And ere that all those blows at thy head do hit. 
Thou, with thy wife adultery shall commit. 

" For you, forsooth," said he, " when I told you that some 
supernatural cause sent me strange visions, which being confrmed 
with presagious chances, I had gone to Delphos, and there received 
this answer, you replied unto me that the only supernatural causes 
were the humours of my body, which bred such melancholy dreams, 
and that both they framed a mind full of conceits, apt to make 
presages of things, which in themselves were merely chanceable : 
and withal, as I say, you remember what you wrote me touching 
the authority of the oracle : but now I have some notable trial of 
the truth thereof, which hereafter I will more largely communicate 
unto you. Only now, know that the thing I most feared is already 
performed ; I mean, that a foreign state should possess my throne. 
For that hath been done by Zelmane, but not as I feared, to my 
ruin, but to my preservation." But when he had once named 
Zelmane, that name was as good as a pulley, to make the clock of his 
praises run on in such sort that Philanax found was more exquisite 
than the only admiration of virtue breedeth : which bis faithful 

268 ARCADIA [book n. 

heart inwardly repining at, made him shrink away as soon as he 
could to go aljout the other matters of importance which Basilius 
had enjoined unto him. 

Basilius returned into the lodge, thus by himself construing the 
oracle : that in that, he said, his elder care should by princely 
mean be stolen away from him, and yet not lost, it was now 
performed, since Zelmane had, as it were, robbed from him the 
care of his first begotten child, yet was it not lost, since in his 
heart the ground of it remained. That his younger should with 
nature's bliss embrace the love of Zelmane, because he had so 
commanded her for his sake to do, yet should it be with as much 
hate of nature, for being so hateful an opposite to the jealousy he 
thought her mother had of him. The sitting in that seat he deemed 
by her already performed. But that which most comforted him 
was his interpretation of the adultery, which he thought he should 
commit with Zelmane, whom afterwards he should have to his 
wife. The point of his daughter's marriage, because it threatened 
his death withal, he determined to prevent with keeping them while 
he lived, unmarried. But having, as he thought, gotten thus much 
understanding of the oracle, he determined for three days after to 
perform certain rites to Apollo : and even then began with his wife 
and daughters to sing this hymn, and by them yearly used. 

Apollo great, whose beams the greater world do light, 

And in our little world do clear our inward sight, 

Which ever shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade, 

Whose lights do ever live, but in our darkness fade ; 

Thou god, whose youth was decked with spoil of Python's skin 

(So humble knowledge can throw down the snakish sin) 

Latona's son, whose birth in pain and travail long 

Doth teach, to learn the good what travails do belong : 

In travail of our life, a, short but tedious space. 

While brittle hour glass runs, guide thou our panting pace 

Give us foresightful minds : give us minds to obey 

What foresight tells ; our thoughts upon thy knowledge stay. 

Let so our fruits grow up that nature be raaintain'd : 

But so our hearts keep down, with vice they be not stain'd. 

Let this assured hold our judgments overtake. 

That nothing wins the heaven, but what doth earth forsake. 

, As soon as he had ended his devotion (all the privileged shepherds 
being now come) knowing well enough he might lay all his care 
upon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the taste of this past 
tumult with some rural pastimes. For which, while the shepherds 
prepared themselves in the best manner, Basilius took his daughter 
Philocle^ aside, and with such haste, as if his ears hunted for words, 


desired to know how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered 
him according to the agreement betwixt them, that thus much for 
her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former resolu- 
tion, as to hear him whenever he would speak ; and further than 
that she said, as Zelmane had not granted, so she neither did nor 
ever would desire. Basihus kissed her with more than fatherly 
thanks, and straight, like a hard-kept ward new come to his 
lands, would fain have used the benefit of that grant, in laying his 
sickness before his only physician. But Zelmane, that had not 
yet fully determined with herself how to bear herself toward him, 
made him in few words understand, that the time, in respect of the 
company, was unfit for such a parley ; and therefore to keep his 
brains the busier, letting him understand what she had learned of 
his daughters, touching Erona's distress, whom in her travel she 
had known and been greatly beholden to, she desired him to finish 
the rest, for so far as Plangus had told him ; because, she said, and 
she said truly, she was full of care for that lady, whose desert, only 
except an over-base choice, was nothing agreeable to misfortune. 
Basilius glad that she would command him anything, but more 
glad that in executing the unfitness of that time, she argued an 
intention to grant a fitter, obeyed her in this manner. 

" Madame," said he, " it is very true that since years enabled me 
to judge what is or is not to be pitied, I never saw anything that 
more moved me to justify a vehement compassion on myself than 
the estate of that prince, whom strong against all his own afflictions, 
which yet were great as I perceive you have heard, yet true and 
noble love had so pulled down, as to lie under sorrow for another. 
Insomuch as I could not temper my long idle pen in that subject, 
which I perceive you have seen. But then to leave that unrepeated, 
which I find my daughters have told you, it may please you to 
understand, since it pleaseth you to demand, that Antiphilus being 
crowned, and so left by the famous princes Musidorus and Pyrocles 
(led thence by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in those 
provinces of Greece, making a dishonourable inquiry after that 
excellent prince Pyrocles, already perished) Antiphilus I say, being 
crowned and delivered from the presence of those two, whose 
virtues, while they were present, like good schoolmasters, 
suppressed his vanities, he had not strength of mind enough in 
him to make long delay of discovering what manner of man he 
was. But straight like one carried up to so high a place that he 
loseth the discerning of the ground over which he is, so was his 
mind lifted so far beyond the level of his own discourse, that 
remembering only that himself was in the high seat of a king, he 
could not perceive that he was a king of reasonable creatures who 
would quickly scorn follies, and repine at injuries. But imagining 

270 ARCADIA [book h. 

no so true property of sovereignty as to do what he listed, and to 
list whatsoever pleased his fancy, he quickly made his kingdom a 
tennis-court, where his subjects should be the balls, not in truth 
cruelly, but licentiously abusing them, presuming so far upon 
himself, that what he did was liked of everybody : nay, that his 
disgraces were favours, and all because he was a king. For in 
nature not able to conceive the bounds of great matters, suddenly 
borne into an unknown ocean of absolute power, he was swayed 
withal, he knew not how, as every wind of passion puffed him. 
Whereto nothing helped him better than that poisonous sugar of 
flattery, which some used, out of the innate baseness of their heart, 
straight like dogs fawning upon the greatest ; others secretly hating 
him, and disdaining his great rising so suddenly, so undeservedly, 
finding his humour, bent their exalting him only to his overthrow, 
like the bird that carries the shell-fish high, to break him the 
easier with his fall. But his mind, being an apt matter to receive 
what form their amplifying speeches would lay upon it, danced so 
pretty a measure to their false music, that he thought himself the 
wisest and worthiest and best beloved that ever gave honour to 
royal title. And being but obscurely born, he had found out 
unblushing pedigrees that made him not only of the blood royal, 
but true heir, though unjustly dispossessed by Erona's ancestors. 
And like the foolish bird, that when it so hides the head that it 
sees not itself, thinks nobody else sees it, so did he imagine that 
nobody knew his baseness, while he himself turned his eyes 
from it. 

"Then vainness, a meagre friend to gratefulness, brought him 
so to despise Erona, as of whom he had received no benefit, that 
within half a year's marriage he began to pretend barrenness, and 
making first an unlawfiil law of having more wives than one, he 
still keeping Erona under-hand, by messages sought Artaxia ; who 
no less hating him than loving as unlucky a choice, the naughty 
king Plexirtus, yet to bring to pass what she purposed, was content 
to train him into false hopes, till already his imagination had 
crowned him king of Armenia, and had made that but the 
foundation of more and more monarchies, as if fortune had only 
gotten eyes to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of 
most part of all the princes of Asia, being to do honour to the 
never sufficiently praised Pyrocles and Musidorus, he would be 
one ; not to acknowledge his obligation, which was as great as 
any of the others, but looking to have been young-mastered among 
those great estates as he was among his abusing underlings. But 
so many valourous princes, indeed far nearer to disdain him than 
otherwise, he was quickly, as standing upon no true ground, in- 
wardly out of countenance with himself, till his seldom comfortless 


flatterers, persuading him it was envy and fear of his expected 
greatness, made him haste away from that company, and without 
further delay, appointed the meeting with Artaxia, so incredibly 
blinded with the over-bright shining of his royalty that he could 
think such a queen would be content to be joined-patent with 
another to have such an husband. Poor Erona to all this obeyed, 
either vehemency of affection making her stoop to so over-base 
a servitude, or astonished with an unlooked for fortune, dull to any 
behooful resolution, or, as many times it falls out even in great 
hearts when they can accuse none but themselves, desperately 
bent to maintain it. For so went she on in that way of her love, 
that, poor lady, to be beyond all other examples of ill-set affection, 
she was brought to write to Artaxia, that she was content, for the 
public good to be a second wife, and yield the first place to her ; 
nay to extol him, and even woo Artaxia for him. 

" But Artaxia, mortally hating them both for her brother's sake, 
was content to hide her hate till she had time to show it : and 
pretending that all her grudge was against the two paragons of 
virtue, Musidorus and Pyrocles, even met -them half way in 
excusing her brother's murder, as not being principal actors ; and 
of the other side, driven to what they did by the ever-pardonable 
necessity ; and so well handled the matter, as though she promised 
nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himself all that she would have 
him think. And so a solemn interview was appointed ; but, as 
the poets say, Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured coat. 
For Artaxia laying men secretly, and easily they might be secret, 
since Antiphilus thought she over-ran him in love, when he came 
even ready to embrace her, showing rather a countenance of 
accepting than offering, they came forth, and, having much 
advantage both in number, valour, and fore-preparation, put all 
his company to the sword, but such as could fly away. As for 
Antiphilus, she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, 
hastening back towards her brother's tomb, upon which she meant 
to sacrifice them ; making the love of her brother stand between 
her and all other motions of grace from which by nature she was 

" But great diversity in those two quickly discovered itself for 
the bearing of that affliction : for Antiphilus, who had no greatness 
but outward, that taken away, was ready to fall faster than calamity 
could thrust him ; with fruitless begging of life, where reason 
might well assure him his death was resolved, and weak bemoaning 
his fortune, to give his enemies a most pleasing music, with many 
promises and protestations, to as httle purpose as from a little 
mind. But Erona, sad indeed, yet like one rather used, than new 
fallen to sadness, as who had the joys of her heart already broken 


seemed rather to welcome than to shun that end of misery ; 
speaking little, but what she spoke was for Antiphilus, remembering 
his guiltiness, being at that time prisoner to Tiridates, when the 
vahant princess slew him : to the disgrace of men, showing that 
there are women both more wise to judge what is to be expected, 
and more constant to bear it when it is happened. 

" But her wit endeared by her youth, her affliction by her birth, 
and her sadness by her beauty, made this noble prince Plangus, 
who, never almost from his cousin Artaxia, was now present at 
Erona's taking, to perceive the shape of loveliness more perfectly 
in woe than in joyfulness, as in a picture which receive greater 
life by the darkness of shadows than by more ghttering colours, 
and seeing to like, and liking to love, and loving straight to feel 
the most incident effects of love, to serve and preserve. So borne 
by the hasty tide of short leisure, he did hastily deliver together 
his affection, and affectionate care. But she, as if he had spoken 
of a small matter, when he mentioned her life, to which she had 
not leisure to attend, desired him if he loved her, to show it, in 
finding some way to save Antiphilus. For her, she found the 
world but a wearisome stage unto her, where she played a part 
against her will : and therefore besought him not to cast his love 
in so unfruitful a place, as could not love itself : but for a testimony 
of constancy, and a suitableness to his word, to do so much 
comfort to her mind, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saved. 
He told me how much he argued against her tendering him who 
had so ungratefully betrayed her and foolishly cast away himself. 
But perceiving she did not only bend her very good wits to speak 
for him against herself, but when such a cause could be allied to 
no reason, yet love would needs make itself a cause, and bar her 
rather from hearing, than yield that she should yield to such 
arguments : he likewise, in whom the power of love, as they say 
of spirits, was subject to the love in her, with grief consented, and 
though backwardly, was diligent to labour the help of Antiphilus, 
a man whom he not only hated as a traitor to Erona, but envied 
as a possessor of Erona ; yet love swore his heart, in spite of 
his heart, should make him become a servant to his rival. And 
so did he, seeking all the means of persuading Artaxia, which the 
authority of so near and so virtuous a kinsman could give unto 
him. But she, to whom the eloquence of hatred had given revenge 
the face of delight, rejected all such motions : but rather the 
more closely imprisoning them in her chief city, where she kept 
them, with intention at the birthday of Tiridates, which was very 
near, to execute Antiphilus, and at the day of his death, which 
was about half a year after, to use the same rigour towards Erona. 
Plangus much grieved, because much loving, attempted the 


humours of the Lycians, to see whether they would come in with 
forces to succour their princess. But there the next inheritor 
to the crown, with the true play that is used in the game of 
kingdoms, had no sooner his mistress in captivity, but he had 
usurped her place, and making her odious to her people, because 
of the unfit election she had made, and so left no hope there : but, 
which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, persuading the justicing her, 
because that unjustice might give his title the name of justice. 
Wanting that way, Plangus practised with some dear friends of 
his, to save Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was 
much nearer then Erona's, and that he well found she had twisted 
-her life upon the same thread with his, he determined first to 
get him out of prison ; and to that end having prepared all 
matters, as well as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set 
many of Tiridates's old servants to have well marking eyes, he 
conferred wtth Antiphilus, as, by the authority he had, he found 
means to do, and agreed with him of the time and manner how 
he should, by the death of some of his jailors, escape. But all 
being well ordered, and Plangus willingly putting himself into 
the greatest danger, Antiphilus, who like a bladder, swelled ready 
to break, while it was full of the wind of prosperity, that being out, 
was so abjected, as apt to be trod on by everybody, when it came 
to the point, that with some hazard he might be in apparant 
likelihood to avoid the uttermost harm, his heart fainted, and, 
weak fool, neither hoping nor fearing as he should, got a conceit, 
that with betraying this practice, he might obtain pardon : and 
therefore even a little before Plangus should have come unto him, 
opened the whole practice to him that had the charge, with 
unpitied tears idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxia's 
commandment than against her will escape ; yet begging life 
upon any the hardest and wretchedest conditions that she would 
lay upon him. His keeper provided accordingly, so that when 
Plangus came, he was like himself to have been entrapped ; but 
that finding, with a lucky insight, that it was discovered, he 
retired ; and, caUing his friends about him, stood upon his guard, 
as he had good cause. For Artaxia, accounting him most un- 
grateful, considering that her brother and she had not only 
preserved him against the malice of his father, but ever used him 
much liker his birth than his fortune, sent forces to apprehend 
him. But he among the martial men had gotten so great love 
that he could not only keep himself from her malice, but work 
in their minds a compassion of Erona's adversity. 

"But for the succour of Antiphilus he could get nobody to 
join with him, the contempt of him having not been able to 
qualify the hatred, so that Artaxia might easily upon him perform 


274 ARCADIA [book n. 

her will, which was (at the humble suit of all the women of that 
city) to deliver him to their censure, who mortally hated him for 
having made a law of polygamy, after many tortures, forced him 
to throw himself from a high pyramid which was built over 
Tiridates's tomb, and so to end his false-hearted life, which had 
planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be unkind. 

" But Plangus well perceiving that Artaxia stayed only for the 
appointed day that the fair Erona's body, consumed to ashes, 
should make a notorious testimony how deeply her brother's 
death was engraven in her breast, he assembled good numbers 
of firiends, whom his virtue, though a stranger, had tied unto him 
by force, to give her liberty. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom 
anger gave more courage than her sex did fear, used her regal 
authority, the most she could, to suppress that sedition, and have 
her will, which, she thought, is the most princely thing that may 
be. But Plangus, who indeed, as all men witness, is one of the 
best captains, both for policy and valour, that are trained in the 
school of Mars, in a conflict overthrew Artaxia's power, though 
of far greater number ; and there took prisoner a base son of 
her brother's whom she dearly affected, and then sent her word, 
that he should run the same race of fortune, whatsoever it was, 
that Erona did ; and happy was that threatening for her, for else 
Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respect of those 

" But now, some principal noblemen of that country interposing 
themselves, it was agreed that all persons else fully pardoned, and 
all prisoners, except Erona, delivered, she should be put into the 
hands of a principal nobleman, who had a castle of great strength, 
by oath, if by the day two years from Tiridates's death, Pyrocles 
and Musidorus did not in person combat and overcome two knights, 
whom she appointed to maintain her quarrel against Erona and 
them, of having by treason destroyed her brother, that then Erona 
should be that same day burned to ashes : but if they came, 
and had the victory, she should be delivered ; but upon no occasion 
neither freed nor executed till that day. And hereto of both sides, 
all took solemn oath, and so the peace was concluded ; they of 
Plangus's party partly forcing him to agree, though he himself the 
sooner condescended, knowing the courtesy of those two excellent 
princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrel, and their power such, as 
two more, like the other two, were not able to resist. But Artaxia 
was more, and upon better ground, pleased with this action ; for 
she had even newly received news from Plexirtus that upon the 
sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held 
herself sure of the match. 

" But poor Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his 


party, as most times it falls out in like case, hungry of any 
conditions of peace, accepted them : and then obtained leave of 
the lord that indifferently kept her to visit Erona, whom he found 
full of desperate sorrow, suffering neither his unworthiness, nor his 
wrongs, nor his death, which is the natural conclusion of all worldly 
acts, either to cover with forgetfulness, or diminish with considera- 
tion, the affection she had borne him : but even glorying in 
affliction, and shunning all comfort, she seemed to have no delight 
but in making herself the picture of misery. So that when Plangus 
came to her, she fell in deadly trances, as if in him she had seen 
the death of Antiphilus, because he had not succoured him : and 
yet, her virtue striving, she did at one time acknowledge herself 
bound, and profess herself injured ; instead of allowing the con- 
clusion they had made, or writing to the princes, as he wished her 
to do, craving nothing but some speedy death to follow her, in 
spite of just hate, beloved Antiphilus. 

" So that Plangus having nothing but a ravished kiss from her 
hand at their parting, went away toward Greece ; whitherward he 
understood the princes were embarked. But by the way it was his 
fortune to intercept letters, written by Artaxia to Plexirtus, wherein 
she signified her accepting him to her husband, whom she had ever 
favoured, so much the rather, as he had performed the conditions 
of her marriage, in bringing to their deserved end her greatest 
enemies : withal thanking the sea, in such terms as he might well 
perceive it was by some treason wrought in Plexirtus's ship. 
Whereupon, to make more diligent search, he took ship himself, 
and came into Laconia, inquiring, and by his inquiry finding that 
such a ship was indeed with fight and fire perished, none, almost, 
escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus, it was assuredly 
determined that they were cast away : for the name of such 
princes, especially in Greece, would quickly else have been a large 
witness to the contrary. Full of grief with that, for the loss of 
such who left the world poor of perfection, but more sony for 
Erona's sake, who now by them could not be relieved, a new 
advertisement from Annenia overtook him, which multipled the 
force of his anguish. It was a message from the nobleman who 
had Erona in ward, giving him to understand that since his 
departure, Artaxia, using the benefit of time, had beseiged him in 
his castle, demanding present delivery of her, whom yet for his 
faith given, he would not before the day appointed, if possibly, he 
could resist ; which he foresaw, long he should not do for want of 
victual, which he had not so wisely provided, because he trusted 
upon the general oath taken for two years' space : and therefore 
willed him to make haste to his succour, and come with no small 
forces, for all they that were of his side in Armenia were consumed, 

276 ARCADIA [BOOK 11.' 

and Artaxia had increased her might by marriage of Plexirtus, who 
now crowned king there, sticked not to glory in the murder of 
Pyrocles and Musidorus, as having just cause thereto, in respect of 
the deaths of his sister Andromana, her son, his nephew and his 
own daughter Zelmane : all whose loss he unjustly charged them 
withal, and now openly sticked not to confess what a revenge his 
wit had brought forth, Plangus much astonished herewith, 
bethought himself what to do, for to return to Armenia was vain, 
since his fiiends there were utterly overthrown. Then thought he 
of going to his father ; but he had already, even since the death of 
his stepmother and brother, attempted the recovering of his 
favour, but all in vain. For they that had before joined with 
Andromana to do him the wrong, thought now no life for them if 
he returned ; and therefore kept him still, with new forged 
suspicions, odious to his father. So that Plangus reserving that 
for a work of longer time, than the saving of Erona could bear, 
determined to go to the mighty and good king Euarchus ; who lately 
having, to his eternal fame, fully, not only conquered his enemies, 
but established good government in their countries, he hoped he 
might have present succour of him, both for the justness of the 
cause, and revenge of his children's death, by so henious a treason 
murdered. Therefore with diligence he went to him, and by the 
way (passing through my country) it was my hap to find him, the 
most overthrown man with grief that ever I hope to see again. 
For still it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eyes, such 
an apprehension he had taken of her danger, which in despite of 
all the comfort I could give him, he poured out in such lamenta- 
tions that I was moved not to let him pass till he had made a full 
declaration, which by pieces my daughters and I have delivered 
unto you. Fain he would have had succour of myself, but the 
course of my life being otherwise bent, I only accommodated him 
with some that might safely guide him to the great Euarchus. 
For my part having had some of his speeches so feelingly in my 
memory, that at an idle time, as I told you, I set them down 
dialogue-wise, in such manner as you have seen. And thus, 
excellent lady, I have obeyed you in this story ; wherein if it will 
please you to consider what is the strange power of love, and what 
is due to his authority, you shall exercise therein the true nobleness 
of your judgment, and do the more right to the unfortunate 
historian." Zelmane, sighing for Erona's sake, yet inwardly 
comforted in that she assured herself Euarchus would not spare 
to take in hand the just delivering of her, joined with the just 
revenge of his children's loss, having now what she desired of 
Basilius, to avoid his farther discourses of affection, encouraged 
the shepherds to begin, whom she saw already ready for them. 


The Second ECLOGUE 

The rude tumult of the Enispians gave occasion to the honest 
shepherds to begin their pastoral this day with a dance, which 
they called the skirmish betwixt reason and passion. For seven 
shepherds, which were named the reasonable shepherds, joined 
themselves, four of them making a square, and other two going a 
little wide of either side, like wings for the main battle, and the 
seventh man foremost, like the forlorn hope, to begin the skirmish. 
In like order came out the seven appassionated shepherds, all 
keeping the pace of their foot by their voice, and sundry consorted 
instruments they held in their arms. And first, the foremost of 
the reasonable side began to sing : 

Reason. Thou rebel vile, come, to thy master yield. 

And the other that met him answered : 

Passion. No, tyrant, no ; mine, mine shall be the field. 

R. Can Reason then a tyrant counted be ? 

P. If Reason will that Passions be not free. 

R. But Reason will, that Reason govern most. 

P. And Passion will, that Passion rule the roast. 

R. Your will is will, but Reason reason is. 

P. Will hath his will, when Reason's will doth miss. 

R. Whom Passion leads, unto his death is bent. 

P. And let him die, so that he die content. 

R. By nature you to Reason faith have sworn. 

P. Not so but fellow like tog-ether born. 

R. Who Passion doth ensue, lives in annoy. 

P. Who Passion doth forsake, lives void of joy. 

R. Passion is blind, and treads an unknown trace. 

P. Reason hath eyes to see his own ill case. 

Then as they approached nearer, the two of reason's side, as if 
they shot at the other, thus sang : 

R. Dare Passions then abide in Reason's light? 

P. And is not Reason dim with Passion's might? 

R. O foolish thing which glory doth destroy ! 

P. O glorious title of a foolish toy ! 

R. Weakness you are, dare you with our strength fight? 

P. Because our weakness weakeneth all your might. 

278 ARCADIA [BOOK ti. 

R. O sacred Reason, help our virtuous toils. 

P. O Passion, pass on feeble Reason's spoils. 

R. We with ourselves abide a daily strife. 

P. We g^ladly use the sweetness of our life. 

R. But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breed. 

P. We now have peace, your peace we do not need. 

Then did the two square battles meet, and instead of fighting, 
embrace one another, singing thus : 

R. We are too strong : but Reason seeks no blood. 

P. Who be too weak, do fain they be too good. 

R. Though we cannot o'ercome, our cause is just. 

P. Let us o'ercome, and let us be unjust. 

R. Yet Passions yield at length to Reason's stroke. 

P. What shall we win by taking Reason's yoke ? 

R. The joys you have shall be made permanent. 

P. But so we shall with grief learn to repent. 

R. Repent indeed, but that shall be your bliss. 

P. How know we that, since present joys we miss ? 

R. You know it not ; of Reason therefore know it, 

P. No Reason yet had ever skill to show it, 

R. Then let us both to heavenly rules g^ive place. 

P. Which Passions kill, and Reason do deface. 

Then embraced they one another, and came to the king, who 
framed his praises of them according to Zelmane's liking ; whose 
unrestrained parts, the mind and eye, had their free course to the 
delicate Philoclea, whose look was not short in well requiting it, 
although she knew it was a hateful sight to her jealous mother. 
But Dicus, that had in this time taken a great liking of Dorus for 
the good parts he found above his age in him, had a delight to 
taste the fruits of his wit, though in a subject which he himself 
most of all other despised ; and so entered speech with him in the 
manner of this following eclogue. 



Dorus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion, 
To make those woods resound thy lamentation ? 
Thy faint is dead, or dead is thy devotion. 
For who doth hold his love in estimation. 
To witness that he thinks his thoughts delicious, 
Thinks to make each thing badge of his sweet passion. 



But what doth make thee Dicus, so suspicious 
Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable ? 
Who others' virtues doubt, themselves are vicious : 
Not so ; although my mettall were most mutable. 
Her beams have wrought therein most fair impression. 
To such a force some change were nothing suitable. 


The heart well set doth never shun confession ; 
If noble be thy bands, make them notorious ; 
Silence doth seem the mask of base oppression. 
Who glories in his love, doth make love glorious : 

But who doth fear, or bideth mute wilfully. 
Shows, guilty heart doth deem his state opprobrious. 

Thou then, that fram'st both words and voice most skilfully. 
Yield to our ears a sweet and sound relation. 
If love took thee by force, or caught thee guilefully. 


If sunny beams shame heavenly habitation, 
If three-leav'd grass seem to the sheep unsavory ; 

Then base and sour is love's most high vocation. 
Or if sheep's cries can help the sun's own bravery. 

Then may I hope, my pipe may have ability. 
To help her praise, who decks me in her slavery. 

No, no ; no words ennoble self-nobility, 
As for your doubts, her voice was it deceived me. 

Her eye the force beyond all possibility. 


Thy words well voic'd, well grac'd, had almost heaved me, 

Quite from myself, to love love's contemplation ; 

Till of those thoughts thy sudden end bereaved me. 

Go on therefore, and tell us by what fashion, 

In thy own proof he gets so strange possession 

And how possessed he strengthens his invasion 


Sight is his root, in thought is his progression, 

His childhood wonder, prenticeship attention, 

His youth delight, his age the soul's oppression. 

Doubt is his sleep, he waketh in invention. 

Fancy his food, his clothing is of carefulness ; 

Beauty his book, his play lover's dissention ; 

His eyes are curious search, but vail'd with warefulness : 

His wings desire, oft clipped with desperation. 

Largess his hands could never skill of sparefulness ; 

28o ARCADIA [book ii. 

But how he doth by might, or by persuasion 
To conquer, and his conquest how to ratify. 
Experience doubts, and schools hold disputation. 


But so thy sheep may thy good wishes satisfy. 
With large increase, and wool of fine perfection, 
So she thy love, her eyes thy eyes may gratify, 
As thou wilt give our souls a dear refection, 
By telling how she was, how now she framed is 
To help, or hurt in thee her own infection. 


Blest be the name wherewith my mistress named is : 

Whose wounds are salves, whose yokes please more than 

pleasure doth : 
Her stains are beams : virtue the fault she blamed is, 
The heart, eye, ear, here only find his treasure doth. 
All numbering arts her endless graces number not : 
Time, place, life, wit, scarcely her rare gifts measure doth, 
Is she in rage ? so is the sun in summer hot. 
Yet harvest brings : doth she (alas 1) absent herself? 
The sun is hid ; his kindly shadows cumber not 
But when to give some grace she doth content herself. 

then it shines, then are the heavens distributed. 
And Venus seems to make up her, she spent herself. 
Thus then, I say, my mischiefs have contributed 

A greater good by her divine reflection, 
My harms to me, my bliss to her attributed. 
Thus she is framed : her eyes are my direction, 
Her love my life, her anger my destruction : 
Lastly, what so she is, that's my protection. 


Thy safety sure is wrapped in destruction, 
For that construction thine own words do bear. 
A man to fear a woman's moody eye. 
Makes reason lie a slave to servile sense, 
A weak defence where weakness is thy force ; 
So is remorse in folly dearly bought. 


If I had thought to hear blasphemous words, 
My breast to swords, my soul to hell have sold 

1 rather would, than thus mine ear defile 

With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed 
O herds take heed j for I a wolf have found, 
Who hunting round the strongest for to kill. 


His breast doth fill with earth of others woe : 
And loaden so pulls down, puU'd down destroys. 
O shepherd boys, eschew those tongues of venom, 
Which do envenom both the soul and senses ; 
Our best defences are to fly those adders. 
O tongues like ladders made to climb dishonour, 
Who judge that honour which hath scope to slander ! 


Dorus you wander far in great reproaches, 
So love encroaches on your charmed reason, 
But it is season for to end our singing, 
Such anger bringing : as for me, my fancy 
In sick-man's frenzy rather takes compassion, 
Than rage for rage : rather my wish I send to thee. 
Thou soon may have some help, or change of passion : 
She oft her looks, the stars her favour bend to thee, 
Fortune store^ nature health, love grant persuasion. 
A quiet mind none but thyself can lend to thee, 
Thus I commend to thee all our former love. 


Well do I prove, error lies oft in zeal, 
Yet it is zeal, though error of true heart ' 
Nought could impart such hates to friendly mind, 
But for to find thy words did her disgrace. 
Whose only face the little heaven is : 

Which who doth miss, his eyes are but delusions, 
Bar'd from their chiefest object of delightfulness, 
Thrown on this earth, the chaos of confusions ; 

As for thy wish, to my enraged spitefulness, 
The lovely blow, which rare reward, my prayer is : 
Thou may' St love her, that I may see thy sightfulness. 

The quiet mind (whereof myself impairer is. 
As thou dost think) should most of all disquiet me. 
Without her love, than any mind who fairer is : 

Her only cure from surfeit woes can diet me. 
She holds the balance of my contentation : 
Her cleared eyes, nought else in storms can quiet me. 

Nay rather than my ease discontentation 
Should breed to her, let me for aye dejected be 
From any joy, which might her grief occasion. 

With so sweet plagues my happy arms infected be : 
Pain wills me die, yet of death I mortify : 
For though life irks, in life my loves protected be, 
Thus for each change my changeless heart I fortify. 

When they had ended, to the good pleasing of the assistants, 
especially of Zelmane, who never forgot to give due commendations 


to her friend Dorus, Basilius called for Lamon to end his discourse 
of Strephon and Klaius, wherewith the other day he marked 
Zelmane to have been exceedingly delighted. But him sickness 
had stayed from that assembly ; which gave occasion to Histor 
and Damon, two young shepherds, taking upon them the two 
friendly rivals' names, to present Basilius with some other of their 
complaints eclogue-wise, and first with this double Sestine. 



Ye goat-herd gods, that love the grassy mountains, 
Ye nymphs that haunt the springs in pleasant valleys. 
Ye satyrs joy'd with free and quiet forests, 
Vouchsafe your silent ears to plaining music. 
Which to my woes give still an early morning, 
And draws the dolor on till weary evening. 


O Mercury, foregoer to the evening, 

O heavenly huntress of the savage mountains, 

lovely star, entitled of the morning. 

While that my voice doth fill those woful valleys, 
Vouchsafe your silent ears to plaining music. 
Which oft hath echo tir'd in secret forests. 


1 that was once free burgess of the forests. 

Where shade from sun, and sports I sought at evening, 

I that was once esteem'd for pleasant music. 

Am banish' d now among the monstrous mountains 

Of huge despair, and foul affliction's valleys 

Am grown a screech-owl to myself each morning. 


I that was once delighted every morning. 
Hunting the wild inhabiters of forests : 
I that was once the music of those valleys 
So darken'd am, that all my day is evening, 
Heart-broken so, that mole hills seem high mountains, 
And fill the vales with cries instead of music. 


Long since, alas 1 my deadly swannish music 

Hath made itself a crier of the morning : 

And hath with wailing strength climb' d highest mountains. 

BOOK ii.l ARCADiA 283 

Long since my thoughts more desert be than forests : 
Long since I see my joys come to their evening, 
And state thrown down to over-trodden valleys. 


Long since the happy dwellers of those valleys 
Have pray'd me leave my strange exclaiming music, 
Which troubles their day's work, and joys of evening : 
Long since I hate the night, more hate the morning : 
Long since my thoughts chase me like beasts in forests, 
And make me wish myself laid under mountains. 


Me seems I see the high and stately mountains, 
Transform themselves to low dejected valleys 
Me seems I hear in these ill changed forests. 
The Nightingales do learn of Owls their music : 
Me seems I feel the comfort of the morning, 
Turn'd to the mortal serene of an evening. 


Me seems I see a filthy cloudy evening, 
As soon as sun begins to climb the mountains : 
Me seems I feel a noisome scent, the morning 
When I do smell the flowers of those valleys : 
Me seems I hear, when I do hear sweet music, 
The dreadful cries of murder'd men in forests. 


I wish to fire the trees of all those forests, 
I give the sun a last farewell each evening, 
I curse the fidling finders out of music : 
With envy I do hate the lofty mountains : 
And with despite despise the humble valleys : 
I do detest night, evening, day and morning. 


Curse to myself my prayer is, the morning ; 
My fire is more than can be made with forests 5 
My state more base, than are the basest valleys i 
I wish no evenings more to see, each evening ; 
Shamed I hate myself in sight of mountains. 
And stop my ears lest I grow mad with music. 


For she whose parts maintain'd a perfect music. 
Whose beauty shin'd more than the blushing morning, 
Who much did pass in state the stately mountains. 

284 ARCADIA [book ii. 

In straightness pass'd the cedars of the forests, 

Hath cast me wretch into eternal evening, 

By taking her two suns from those dark valleys. 


For she, to whom compar'd, the alps are valleys 

She, whose least word brings from the spheres their music. 

At whose approach the sun rose in the evening. 

Who where she went bare in her forehead morning. 

Is gone, is gone, from those our spoiled forests. 

Turning to deserts our best pastur'd mountains. 


Those mountains witness shall, so shall those valleys. 
Those forests eke, made wretched by our music. 

Our morning hymn is this, and song at evening. 

But as though all this had been but the taking of a taste of their 
wailings, Strephon again began this Dizain which was answered 
unto him in that kind of verse which is called the crown. 


I joy in grief, and do detest all joys ; 
Despise delight, am tir'd with thought of ease : 
I turn my head to all forms of annoys, 
And with the change of them my fancy please, 
I study that which may me most displease. 
And in despite of that displeasure's might, 
Embrace that most, that most my soul destroys ; 
Blinded with beams, fell darkness is my sight : 
Dwell in my ruins, feed with sucking smart, 
I think from me, not from my woes to part. 


I think from me not from my woes to part. 

And loath the time call'd life, nay think that life 

Nature to me for torment did impart ; 

Think, my hard haps have blunted death's sharp knife. 

Not sparing me, in whom his works be rife : 

And thinking this, think nature, life and death 

Place sorrow's triumph on my conquered heart, 

Whereto I yield, and seek none other breath. 

But from the scent of some infectious grave : 

Nor of my fortune ought, but mischief crave. 



Nor of my fortune ought but mischief crave, 

And seek to nourish that, which now contains 

All what I am : if I myself will save. 

Then must I save, what in me chiefly reigns, 

Which is the hateful web of sorrow's pains. 

Sorrow then cherish me, for I am sorrow : 

No being now, but sorrow I can have : 

Then deck me as thine own ; thy help I borrow. 

Since thou my riches art, and that thou hast 

Enough to make a fertile mind lie waste. 


Enough to make a fertile mind lie waste, 
Is that huge storm, which pours itself on me ! 
Hailstones of tears, of sight a monstrous blast, 
Thunders of cries ; lightnings my wild looks be. 
The darkened heav'n my soul, which nought can see, 
The flying sprites which trees by roots uptear. 
Be those despairs which have my hopes quite waft. 
The difference is ; all folks those storms forbear. 
But I cannot ; who then myself should fly. 
So close unto myself my wrecks do lie. 


So close unto myself my wrecks do lie. 

But cause, eifect, beginning, and the end 

Are all in me : what help then can I try ? 

My ship, myself, whose course to love doth bend, 

Sore beaten doth her mast of comfort spend : 

Her cable reason, breaks from anchor'd hope : 

Fancy, her tackling torn away doth fly : 

Ruin, the wind, hath blown her from her scope : 

Bruised with waves of cares, but broken is 

On rock despair, the burial of my bliss. 


On rock'd despair, the burial of my bliss, 
I long do plough with plough of deep desire : 
The seed saft meaning is, no truth to miss : 
I harrow it with thoughts, which all conspire, 
Favour to make my chief and only hire. 
But woe is me, the year is gone about, 
And now I fain would reap, I reap but this 
Hatefully grown, absence new sprung out. 
So that I see, although my sight impair. 
Vain is their pain, who labour in despair. 

286 ARCADIA [book n, 


Vain is their pain, who labour in despair. 
For so did I, when with my angle will, 
I sought to catch the fish Torpedo fair, 
Ev'n then despair did hope already kill : 
Yet fancy would perforce employ his skill. 
And this hath got ; the catcher now is caught, 
Lara'd with the angle, which itself did bear, 
And unto death, quite drown'd in dolors, brought 
To death, as then disguis'd in her fair face : 
Thus, thus, alas, I had my loss in chase. 


Thus, thus, alas, I had my loss in chase. 

When first that crowned Basilisk I knew ; 

Whose footsteps I with kisses oft did trace, 

Till by such hap, as I must ever rue. 

Mine eyes did light upon her shining hue, 

And hers on me, astonish'd with that sight. 

Since then my heart did lose his wonted place. 

Infected so with her sweet poisons might. 

That, leaving me for dead, to her it went : 

But ha ! her flight hath her my dead reliques spent. 


But ah ! her flight hath my dead reliques spent. 
Her flight, from me, from me, though dead to me. 
Yet living still in her, while her beams lent 
Such vital spark, that her mine eyes might see. 
But now those living lights absented be. 
Full dead before, now I to dust should fall, 
But that eternal pains my soul have bent. 
And keep it still within this body thrall, 
That thus I must while in this death I dwell. 
In earthly fetters feel a lasting hell. 


In earthly fetters feel a lasting hell, 

Alas I do ; from which to flnd release, 

I would the earth, I would the heavens fell : 

But vain it is to think those pains should cease, 

Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace. 

fair, O only fair, from thee alas. 
Those foul, most foul disasters to me fell ; 
Since thou from me, O me ! O sun did'st pass. 
Therefore esteeming all good blessings toys, 

1 joy in grief, and do detest all joys. 



I joy in grief, and do detest all joys, 
But now an end, O Klaius, now an end : 
For even the herbs our hateful music destroyes, 
And from our burning breath the trees do bend. 

So well were those wailful complaints accorded to the passions 
of all the princely hearers, while every one made what he heard of 
another the balance of his own fortune, that they stood a long while 
stricken in sad and silent consideration of them. Which the old 
Geron no more marking than condemning in them, desirous to set 
forth what counsels the wisdom of age had laid up in store against 
such fancies, as he thought, follies of youth, yet so as it might not 
appear that his words respected them, bending himself to a young 
shepherd, named Philisides, who neither had danced nor sung with 
them, and had all this time lain upon the ground at the foot of a 
Cypress tree, leaning upon his elbow with so deep a melancholy, 
that his senses carried to his mind no delight from any of their 
objects, he struck him upon the shoulder with a right old man's 
grace, that will seem livelier than his age will afford him. And thus 
began unto him this eclogue. 

Up, up, Philisides, let sorrows go, 
Who yields to woe, but doth increase his smart. 
Do not thy heart to plaintful custom bring : 
But let us sing ; sweet tunes do passions ease, 
An old man hear who would thy fancies raise. 

Who minds to please the mind drown'd in annoyes 
With outward joys, which inly cannot sink. 
As well may think with oil to cool the fire : 
Or with desire to make such foe a friend, 
Who doth his soul to endless malice bend. 

But sure an end to each thing time doth give, 
Though woes now live, at length thy woes must die : 
Then virtue try, if she can work in thee 
That which we see in many time hath wrought, 
And weakest hearts to constant temper brought. 

Who ever taught a skilless man to teach. 
Or stop a breach that never cannon saw ? 

288 ARCADIA [book ii. 

Sweet virtue's law bars not a causeful moan. 
Time shall in one my life and sorrows end, 
And me perchance your constant temper lend. 


What can amend where physick is refus'd ? 
The wit';s abus'd that will no counsel take. 
Yet for my sake discover us thy grief. 
Oft comes relief when most we seem in trap. 
The stars thy state, fortune may change thy hap. 


If fortune's lap became my dwelling place, 
And all the stars conspired to my good, 
Still were I one, this still should be my case. 
Ruin's relique, care's web, and sorrow's food : 
Since she fair fierce to such a state me calls, 
Whose wit the stars, whose fortune, fortune thralls. 


Alas what falls are fall'n unto thy mind ? 

That there where thou confessed thy mischief lies, 

Thy wit dost use still more harms to find. 

Whom wit makes vain, or blinded with his eyes j 

What counsel can prevail, or light give light ? 

Since all his force against himself he tries. 

Then each conceit that enters in his sight, 

Is made, forsooth, a jurate of his woes : 

Earth, sea, air, fire, heaven, hell, and ghastly spright. 

Then cries to senseless things, which neither knows 

What aileth thee, and if they knew thy mind, 

Would scorn in man, their king, such feeble shows. 

Rebel, rebel, in golden fetters bind 

This tyrant love ; or rather do suppress 

Those rebel-thoughts, which are thy slaves by kind. 

Let not a glittering name thy fancy dress 

In painted clothes ; because they call it love : 

There is no hate that can thee more oppress. 

Begin, and half the work is done, to prove 

By rising up, upon thyself to stand. 

And think she is a she, that doth thee move. 

He water ploughs, and soweth in the sand. 

And hopes the flickering wind with net to hold 

Who hath his hopes laid upon woman's hand. 

What man is he that hath his freedom sold ? 

Is he a manlike man, doth not know, man 

Hath power that sex with bridle to withhold ? 

A fickle sex, and true in trust to no man. 


A servant sex soon proud if they be coy'd : 
And to conclude thy mistress is a woman. 


O gods, how long- this old fool hath annoy'd 
My wearied ears 1 O gods, yet grant me this, 
That soon the world of his false tongue be void. 
O noble age who place their only bliss, 
In being heard until the hearer die. 
Uttering a serpent's mind with a serpent's hiss. 
Then who will bear a well-authorized lie 
(And patience hath) let him go learn of him 
What swarms of virtues did in his youth fly 
Such hearts of brass, wise heads, and garments trim 
Were in his days : which heard, one nothing hears. 
If from his words the falsehood he do skim. 
And herein most their folly vain appears, 
That since they still allege, when they were young, 
It shows they fetch their wit from youthful years, 
Like beast for sacrifice, where save the tongue 
And belly nought is left : such sure is he. 
This life-dead man in this old dungeon flung. 
' Old houses are thrown down for new we see : 
The oldest rams are culled from the flock : 
No man doth wish his horse should aged be. 
The ancient oak well makes a fired block : 
Old men themselves do love young wives to choose : 
Only fond youth admires a rotten stock. 
Who once a white long beard, well handle does 
(As his beard him, he his beard did bare) 
Though cradle-witted, must not honour lose, 

when will men leave off to judge by hair ; 
And think them old that have the oldest mind, 
With virtue fraught, and full of holy fear ! 


If that thy face were hid, or I were blind, 

1 yet should know a young man speaketh now, 
Such wandering reasons in thy speech I find. 
He is a beast, that beasts use will allow. 

For proof of man, woo sprung of heav'nly fire 
Hath strongest soul when most his reigns do bow. 
But fondlings fond, know not your own desire 
Loth to die young, and then you must be old. 
Fondly blame that to which yourselves aspire. 
But this light choler that doth make you bold. 
Rather to wrong than unto just defence. 
Is past with me, my blood is waxed cold, 

290 ARCADIA [book n. 

Thy words, though full of malapert offence, 

I weigh them not, but still will thee advise 

How thou from foolish love mayest purge thy sense. 

First think they err, that think them gaily wise, 

Who well can set a passion out to show : 

Such sight have they that see with goggling eyes, 

Passion bears high when puffing wit doth blow. 

But is indeed a toy, if not a toy. 

True cause of evils : and cause of causeless woe, 

If once thou mayest that fancy gloss destroy 

Within thyself, thou soon wilt be ashamed 

To be a player of thine own annoy. 

Then let thy mind with better books be tamed. 

Seek to espy her faults as well as praise. 

And let thine eyes to other sports be framed. 

In hunting fearful beasts, do spend some days. 

Or catch the birds with pit-falls or with lime, 

Or train the fox that train so crafty lays. 

Lie but to sleep, and in the early prime 

Seek skill of herbs in hills, haunt brooks near night. 

And try with bait how fish will bite sometime. 

Go graft again and seek to graft them right. 

Those pleasant plants, those sweet and fruitful trees 

Which both the palate and the eyes delight. 

Cherish the hives of wisely painful bees. 

Let special care upon thy flock be stayed. 

Such active mind but seldom passion sees. 


Hath any man heard what this old man said ? 
Truly not I, who did my thoughts engage. 
Where all my pains one look of her hath paid. 

Geron was even out of countenance, finding the words, he thought 
were so wise, win so little reputation at this young man's hands ; 
and therefore sometimes looking upon an old acquaintance of his 
called Mastix, one of the repiningest fellows in the world, and that 
beheld nobody but with a mind of mislike, saying still the world 
was amiss, but how it should be amended he knew not, sometimes 
casting his eyes to the ground, even ashamed to see his grey hairs 
despised, at last he spied his two dogs, whereof the elder was called 
MelampuSj>arid the younger Lelaps (indeed the jewels he ever had 
with him) one brawling with another ; which occasion he took to 
restore himself to his countenance, and rating Melampus, he 
began to speak to his dogs, as if in them a man should find more 
obedience, than in unbridled young men. 



Down, down Melampus, what ? your fellow bite ? 

I set you o'er the flock I dearly love, 

Them to defend, not with yourselves to fight. 

Do you not think this will the wolves remove 

From former fear, they had of your good minds, 

When they shall such divided weakness prove ? 

What if Lelaps a better morsel find 

Than you erst knew ? rather take part with him 

Than jarl : lo, lo, even those how envy blind. 

And then Lelaps let not pride make thee brim ; 

Because thou hast thy fellow overgone. 

But thank'the cause, thou seest where he is dim. 

Here Lelaps, here indeed, against the foe 

Of my good sheep, thou never truce him took ; 

Be as thou art, but be with mine at one. 

For though Melampus like a wolf do look 

(For age doth make him of a wolfish hue) 

Yet have I seen, when like a wolf he shook. 

Fool that I am, that with my dogs speak grew : 

Come near good Mastix, 'tis now full twa score 

Of years, alas, since I good Mastix knew. 

Thou heard'st even now a young man snub me sore. 

Because I read him, as I would my son. 

Youth will have will ; age must to age therefore. 


What marvel if in youth (uch fault be done, 

Since that we see our saddest shepherds out, 

Who have their lesson so long time begun ? 

Quickly secure, and easily in doubt. 

Either asleep be all, if not assail, 

Or all abroad if but a cub start out 

We shepherds are like them that under sail 

Do speak high words, when all the coast is clear, 

Yet to a passenger will bonnet vail. 

I con thee thank to whom thy dogs be dear, 

But commonly like curs we them treat. 

Save when great need of them perforce appear, 

Then him we kiss, whom late before we beat 

With such intemperance, that each way grows 

Hate of the first, contempt of latter feat. 

And such discord 'twixt greatest shepherds flows. 

That sport it is to see with how great art, 

By justice work they their own faults disclose : 


Like busy boys to win their tutor's heart. 
One faith, he mocks ; another faith he plays, 
The third his lesson missed, till all do smart. 
As for the rest, how shepherds spend their days, 
At blow-point, hot-cockles, or else at keels. 
While, let us pass our time each shepherd says. 
So small account of time the shepherd feels. 
And doth not feel, that life is not but time, 
And when that time is past, death holds his heels ; 
To age thus do they draw their youthful prime. 
Knowing no more, than what poor trial shows. 
As fish sure trial hath of muddy slime. 
This pattern good, unto our children goes, 
For what they see their parents love or hate. 
Their first-caught sense prefers to teachers' blows. 
Those cocklings cocker'd we bewail too late. 
When that we see our off-spring gaily bent. 
Women man-wood, and men effeminate. 


Fie man, fie man : what words hath thy tongue lent ? 

Yet thou art mickle warse, then e're was I, 

Thy too much zeal, I fear thy brain hath spent. 

We oft are angrier than the feeble fly 

For business, where it appertains him not, 

Than with the poisonous toads that quiet lie. 

I pray thee what hath ere the Parrot got ? 

And yet they say he talks in great men's bowers ; 

A cage, gild&d perchance, is all his lot, 
Who of his tongue the liquor gladly pours, 
A good fool call'd with pain perhaps may be : 
But even for that shall suffer mighty lowers. 
Let swans example siker serve for thee, 
Who once all birds, in sweetly singing past, 
But now to silence turn'd his minstrelsy, 
For he could sing : but others were defac'd. 
The Peacock's pride, the Pyes pil'd flattery. 
Cormorants glut. Kites spoil. Kingfishers waste, 
The Falcon's fierceness, Sparrow's letchery. 
The Cuckoo's shame, the Goose's good intent. 
Even Turtle touch'd he with hypocrisy. 
And worse of other more, till by assent 
Of all the birds, but namely those were grieved. 
Of fowls there call'd was a Parliament : 
There was the Swan of dignity deprived, 
And statute made he never should have voice ; 
Since when, I think, he hath in silence lived, 


I warn thee therefore (since thou may'st have choice) 
Let not thy tongue become a fiery match ; 
No sword so bites, as that evil tool annoys. 
Let our unpartial eyes a little watch 
■ Our own demean, and soon we wonder shall, 
That hunting faults, ourselves we did not catch. 
Into our minds let us a little fall, 
And we shall find more spots than Leopard's skin. 
Then who makes us, such Judges over all ? 
But farewell now, thy fault is no great sin, 
Come, come my curs, 'tis late I will go in. 

And away with his dogs straight he went, as if he would be sure 
to have the last word, all the assembly laughing at the lustiness of 
the old fellow, who departed muttering to himself he had seen more 
in his days than twenty of them. But Basilius, who never before 
had heard Philisides, though having seldom appeared to be at those 
meetings, desired him he would begin some eclogue with some 
other of the shepherds, according to the accustomed guise. 
Philisides, though very unwilling, at the king's commandment 
offered to sing with Thyrsis. But he directly refused him, seeing 
he should within few days be married to the fair Kala, and since 
he had gotten his desire he would sing no more. Then the king 
willed' Philisides to declare the discourse of his own fortunes, 
unknown to them, as being a stranger in that country ; but he 
prayed the king to pardon him, the time being far too joyful to 
suffer the rehearsal of his miseries. But to satisfy Basilius some 
way, he began an eclogue betwixt himself and the Echo, framing 
his voice so in those desert places, as what words he would have 
the Echo reply unto, those he would sing higher than the rest ; 
and so kindly framed a disputation betwixt himself and it, which 
with those Hexameters in the following order he uttered. 


Fair rocks, goodly rivers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace ? 

Peace ? what bars me my tongue ? who is it that comes me so 

nigh ? L 
Oh ! I do know what guest I have met, it is echo. 'Tis Echo. 
Well met echo, approach : then tell me thy will too. I will too. 
Echo, what do I get yielding my spirit to my griefs ? Griefs. 
What medicine may I find for a grief that draws me to death? 


294 ARCADIA [Book ih 

O poisonous medicine 1 what worse to me can be than it ? It. 
In what state was I then, when I took this deadly disease? 

And what manner u, mind which had to that humour a vain? 

Hath not reason enough vehemence the desire to reprove? 

Oft prove I: but what salve, when reason seeks to be g-one? 

Oh ! what is it ? what is it that may be a salve to my love ? 

What do lovers seek for, long seeking for to enjoy ? Joy. 
What be the joys, which for to enjoy they went to the pains ? 

Then to an earnest love what doth best victory lend ? End. 
End ? but I can never end, love will not give me leave ? Leave. 
How be the minds dispos'd that cannot taste thy physick? Sick. 
Yet say again thy advice for the evils that I told thee ? I told 

Doth th' infected wretch of his harm th' extremity know ? No. 
But if he know not his harms, what guides hath he while he be 

blind? Blind. 
What blind guides can he liave that leans to fancie ? A fancy. 
Can fancies want eyes, or he fall that sleepeth aloft ? Oft. 
What causes first made those torments on me to light ? Light. 
Can then a cause be so light that forceth a man to go die ? I. 
Yet tell what light thing I had in me to draw me to die ? Eye. 
Eye-sight made me to yield, but what first pierc'd to my eyes ? 

Eyes hurters, eyes hurt ; but what from them to me falls ? Falls. 
But when I first did fall, what brought most fall to my heart? 

Art? what can be that art thou dost mean by thy speech? 

What be the fruits of speaking art ? what grows by the words ? 

O much more than words : those words serv'd more me to bless. 

Oh when shall I be known, where most to be known I do long ? 

Long be thy woes for such news, but how reek's she my 

thoughts ? Oughts. 
Then then what I do gain, since unto her will I do winde? 

Wind, tempests, and storms, yet in end what gives she desire ? 

Silly reward ! yet among women hath she of virtue the most. 



What great name may I give to so heav'niy a woman ? A Wo-man. 
Wo, but seems to me joy, that agrees to my thoughts so. I 

thought so. 
Think so, for of my desired bliss it is only the course. Curse. 
Curs'd be thyself for cursing that which leads me to joys. Toys. 
What be the sweet creatures where lowly demands be not heard ? 

What makes them be unkind? speak for th' hast narrow pry'd? 

Whence can pride come there, since springs of beauty be thence ? 

Horrible is this blasphemy unto the most holy. O lie. 
Thou liest false echo, their minds as virtue be just. Just. 
Mock'st thou those diamonds which only be match'd by the 

gods ? Ods. 
Ods ? what an ods is there since them to the heav'ns I prefer ? 

Tell yet again me the names of those fair form'd to do evils? 

Devil ? if hell such devils do abide, to the hells I do go. Go. 

Philisides was commended for the place of his echo ; but little 
did he regard their praises, who had set the foundations of his 
honour there where he was most despised : and therefore returning 
again to the train of his desolate pensiveness. Zelmane seeing 
nobody offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrained conceits did 
now burst out of prison, she thus, desiring her voice should be 
accorded to nothing but to Philoclea's ears, threw down the burden 
of her mind in Anacreon's kind of verses. 

My muse what ailes this ardor So may the song be famous : 

To blaze my only secrets ? Or if to love thou art bent, 

Alas it is no glory Recount the rape of Europa, 

To sing mine own decayed state. Adonis end, Venus net, 

Alas it is no comfort, The sleepy kiss the moon stale : 

To speak without an answer. So may the song be pleasant. 

Alas it is no wisdom 

To show the wound without cure. 

So great passion all feel. My muse what ailes this ardor 

To think a sore so deadly To blaze my only secrets ? 

I should so rashly rip up. Wherein do only flourish 

The sorry fruits of anguish. 

My muse what ailes this ardor? The song thereof a last will. 

If that to sing thou art bent, The tunes be cries, the words 
Go sing the fall of old Thebes, plaints. 

The wars of ugly centaurs. The singer is the song's theme, 
The life, the death of Hector ; Wherein no ear can have joy. 

296 ARCADIA [book II. 

My muse what ailes this ardor ? Thy heated heart ray seat is 

Mine eyes be dim, my limbs Wherein I burn : thy breath is 

shake, My voice, too hot to keep in. 

My voice is hoarse, my throat Besides, lo here the author 

scorch'd, Of all thy harms : lo here she, 

My tongue to this my roof That only can redress thee, 

cleaves. Of her will I demand help. 
My fancy amaz'd, my thoughts 


My heart doth ache, my life My muse I yield, my muse I 

faints, sing, 

My soul begins to take leave. But all thy song herein knit. 

Nor eye receive due object The life we lead is all love : 

Ne pleasure here, ne fame gat. The love we hold is all death. 

Nor ought I crave to feed life. 

My muse what ailes this ardor? Nor ought I seek to shun death, 

Alas she faith I am thine. But only that my goddess, 

So are thy pains my pains too. My life my death do count hers. 

Basilius, when she had fully ended her song, fell prostrate upon 
the ground, and thanked the gods they had preserved his life so 
long as to hear the very music they themselves used in an earthly 
body. And then with like grace to Zelmane, never left entreating 
her, till she had, taking a lyre Basilius held for her, sung those 
Phaleuciacks : 

Reason, tell me thy mind, if here be reason 
In this strange violence, to make resistance. 
Where sweet graces erect the stately banner 
Of virtue's regiment, shining in harness 
Of fortune's diadems, by beauty mustered: 
Say then reason ; I say, what is thy counsel ? 

Her loose hairs be the shot, the breasts the pikes be 
Scouts each motion is, the hands be horsemen. 
Her lips are the riches the wars to maintain. 
Where well couched abides a coffer of pearl. 
Her legs carriage is of all the sweet camp : 
Say then reason j I say, what is thy counsel ? 

Her cannons be her eyes, mine eyes the walls be. 
Which at first volley gave too open entry. 
Nor rampier did abide ; my brain was up blown, 
Undermin'd with a speech, the piercer of thoughts. 
Thus weakened by myself, no help remaineth j 
Say then reason ; I say, what is thy counsel? 


And now fame the herald of her true honour, 

Doth proclaim with a sound made all by men's mouths, 

That nature sovereign of earthly dwellers, 

Commands all creatures to yield obeisance 

Under this, this her own, her only darling. 

Say then reason ; I say what is thy counsel ? 

Reason sighs, but in end he thus doth answer : 
Nought can reason avail in heavenly matters. 
Thus nature's diamond receive thy conquest. 
Thus pure pearl, I do yield my senses and soul. 
Thus sweet pain, I do yield what ere I can yield. 
Reason look to thyself, I serve a goddess. 

Dorus had long he thought kept silence, from saying somewhat 
which might tend to the glory of her, in whom all glory to his 
seeming was included, but now he broke it, singing those verses 
called Asclepiadiks. 

O sweet woods the delight of solitariness ! 

O how much I do like your solitariness ! 

Where man's mind hath a freed consideration 

Of goodness to receive lovely direction. 

Where senses do behold th' order of heav'nly host. 

And wise thoughts do behold what the creator is : 

Contemplation here holdeth his only seat : 

Bounded with no limits, borne with a wing of hope, 

Climbs even unto the stars, nature is under it. 

Nought disturbs thy quiet, all to thy service yields, 

Each sight draws on a thought, thought mother of science : 

Sweet birds kindly do grant harmony unto thee. 

Fair trees shade is enough fortification^ 

Nor dangers to thyself, if 't be not in thyself. 

O sweet woods the delight of solitariness ! 

O how much do I like your solitariness ! 

Here nor treason is hid, vailed in innocence, 

Nor envies snaky eye finds any harbour here. 

Nor flatterers venomous insinuations. 

Nor coming humourists puddled opinions, 

Nor courteous ruin of proffered usury, 

Nor time prattled away, cradle of ignorance. 

Nor causeless duty, nor cumber of arrogance. 

Nor trifling title of vanity dazzleth us. 

Nor golden manacles stand for a paradise. 

Here wrong's name is unheard ; slander a monster is. 

Keep thy spirit from abuse, here no abuse doth haunt. 

What man grafts in a tree dissimulation ? 


O sweet woods the delight of solitariness I 

O how well I do like your solitariness ! 

Yet dear soil, if a soul clos'd in a mansion 

As sweet as violets, fair as a lily is, 

Strait as a cedar, a voice strains the canary birds. 

Whose shade safely doth hold, danger avoideth her ; 

Such wisdom, that in her lives speculation : 

Such goodness, that in her simplicity triumphs : 

Where envy's snaky eye, winketh or else dieth. 

Slander wants a pretext, flattery gone beyond : 

Oh ! if such a one have bent to a lonely life, 

Her steps, glad we receive, glad we receive her eyes. 

And think not she doth hurt our solitariness, 

For such company decks such solitariness. 

The other shepherds were offering themselves to have continued 
the sports, but the night had so quietly spent the most part of 
herself among them that the king for that time licensed them to 
depart. And so bringing Zelmane to her lodging, who would 
much rather have done the same for Philoclea ; of all sides they 
went to counterfeit a sleep in their beds, for a true one their 
agonies could not afford them. Yet there they lay, so might they 
be most solitary for the food of their thoughts, till it was near noon 
the next day, after which Basilius was to continue his Apollo 
devotions, and the other to meditate upon their private desires. 



) ' I ""HIS last day's danger, having made Pamela's love discern 
<—' \_ what a loss it should have suffered if Dorus had been 
destroyed, bred such tenderness of kindness in her toward 
him that she could no longer keep love from looking out through her 
eyes, and going forth in her words, whom before as a close prisoner 
she had to her heart only committed ; so that finding not only by 
his speeches and letters, but by the pitiful oration of a languishing 
behaviour, and the easily deciphered character of a sorrowful face, 
that despair began now to threaten him destruction, she grew 
content both to pity him, and let him see she pitied him, as well 
by making her own beautiful beams to thaw away the former 
iciness of her behaviour, as by entertaining his discourses (when- 
soever he did use them) in the third person of Musidorus, to so 
far a degree, that in the end she said that if she had been the 
princess whom that disguised prince had virtuously loved, she 
would have requited his faith with faithful affection ; finding in her 
heart that nothing could so heartily love as virtue : with many 
more words to the same sense of noble favour, and chaste plain- 
nessj Which when at the first it made that unexpected bliss shine 
upon Dorus, he was like one frozen with extremity of cold, over- 
hastily brought to a great fire, rather oppressed than relieved with 
such a lightning of felicity. But after the strength of nature had 
made him able to feel the sweetness of joyfulness, that again being 
a child of passion, and never acquainted with mediocrity, could 
not set bounds upon his happiness, nor be content to give desire 
a kingdom, but that it must be an unlimited monarchy. So that 
the ground he stood upon being over-high in happiness, and 
slippery through affection, he could not hold himself from falling 
into such an error, which with sighs blew all comfort out of his 

300 ARCADIA [book ni. 

breast, and washed away all cheerfulness of his cheer with tears. 
For this favour filling him with hope, hope encouraging his desire, 
and desire considering nothing but opportunity ; one time (Mopsa 
being called away by her mother, and he left alone with Pamela) 
the sudden occasion called love, and that never stayed to ask 
reason's leave, but made the too much loving Dorus take her in 
his arms, offering to kiss her, and, as if it were, to establish a 
trophy of his victory. But she, as if she had been ready to drink 
a wine of excellent taste and colour, which suddenly she perceived 
had poison in it, so did she put him away from her, looking first 
up to heaven, as amazed to find herself so beguiled in him ; then 
laying cruel punishment upon him of angry love, and lowering 
beauty, showing disdain, and a despising disdain. " Away," (said 
she), " unworthy man to love or to be loved. Assure thyself, I hate 
myself being so deceived ; judge then what I do to thee for 
deceiving me. Let me see thee no more, the only fall of my 
judgment, and stain of my conscience." With that she called 
Mopsa, not staying for any answer (which was no other but a flood 
of tears) which she seemed not to mark (much less to pity) and 
chid her for having left her alone. 

It was not a sorrow, but it was even a death which then laid 
hold of Dorus : which certainly at that instant would have killed 
him, but that the fear to tarry longer in her presence (contrary to 
her commandment) gave him life to carry himself away from her 
sight, and to run into the woods, where, throwing himself down 
at the foot of a tree, he did not fall into lamentation (for that 
proceeded of pitying) or grieving for himself (which he did no 
way) but to curses of his life, as one that detested himself. For 
finding himself not only unhappy, but unhappy after being fallen 
from all happiness : and to be fallen from all happiness, not by 
any misconceiving, but by his own fault, and his fault to be done 
to no other but Pamela ; he did not tender his own estate, but 
despised it, greedily drawing into his mind, all conceits which 
might more and more torment him. And so remained he two 
days in the woods, disdaining to give his body food, or his mind 
comfort, loving in himself nothing but the love of her. And 
indeed that love only strove with the fury of his anguish, telling it 
that if it destroyed Dorus, it should also destroy the image of her 
that lived in Dorus : and when the thought of that was crept in 
unto him, it began to win of him some compassion to the shrine 
of that image, and to bewail not for himself (whom he hated) but 
that so notable a love should perish. Then began he only so far 
to wish his own good, as that Pamela might pardon him the fault, 
though not the punishment : and the uttermost height he aspired 
unto, was that after his death she might yet pity his error and 


know that it proceeded of love, and not of boldness. That conceit 
found such friendship in his thoughts, that at last he yielded, since 
he was banished her presence, to seek some means by writing to 
show his sorrow, and testify his repentance. Therefore getting 
him the necessary instruments of writing, he thought best to 
counterfeit his hand (fearing that already as she knew his, she 
would cast it away as soon as she saw it) and to put it in verse, 
hoping that would draw her on to read the more, choosing the 
elegiac as fittest for mourning. But never pen did more quakingly 
perform his office ; never was paper more double moistened with 
ink and tears ; never words more slowly married together, and 
never the muses more tired than now, with changes and re-changes 
of his devices : fearing how to end, before he had resolved how to 
begin, mistrusting each word, condemning each sentence. This 
word was not significant ; that word was too plain ; this would not 
be conceived ; the other would be ill conceived ; here sorrow was 
not enough expressed, there he seemed too much for his own sake 
to be sorry ; this sentence rather showed art than passion, that 
sentence rather foolishly passionate than forcibly moving. At last, 
marring with mending, and putting out better than he left, he 
made an end of it ; being ended, was divers times ready to tear it, 
till his reason assuring him, the more he studied the worse it grew, 
he folded it up, devoutly invoking good acceptation unto it ; and 
watching his time, when they were all gone one day to dinner, 
saving Mopsa to the other lodge, stole up into Pamela's chamber, 
and in her standish (which first he kissed, and craved of it a safe 
and friendly keeping) left it there to be seen at her next using her 
ink (himself returning again to be true prisoner to desperate 
sorrow) leaving her standish upon her beds-head, to give her the 
more occasion to mark it : which also fell out. 

For she finding it at her afternoon return in another place than 
she left ft, opened it. But when she saw the letter, her heart gave 
her from whence it came ; and therefore clapping it to again she 
went away from it as if it had been a contagious garment of an 
infected person : and yet was not long away, but that she wished 
she had read it, though she were loth to read it. "Shall I," said she, 
" second his boldness so far, as to read his presumptuous letters ? 
And yet," saith she, " he sees me not now to grow the bolder thereby : 
and how can I tell whether they be presumptuous ? " The paper 
came from him, and therefore not worthy to be received ; and yet 
the paper she thought was not guilty. At last she concluded, it 
were not much amiss to look it over, that she might out of his 
words pick some further quarrel against him. Then she opened 
it, and threw it away, and took it up again, till (e're she were 
^ware) her eyes would needs read it, containing this matter. 

302 ARCADIA [book m. 

Unto a caitiff wretch, whom long affliction holdeth, 

And now fully believes help to be quite perished, 
Grant yet, grant yet a look, to the last moment of his anguish, 

O you (alas so I find) cause of his only ruin, 
Dread not awhit (O goodly cruel) that pity may enter 

Into thy heart by the sight of this Epistle I send : 
And to refuse to behold of these strange wounds the recital. 

Lest it might thee allure home to thyself to return 
(Unto thyself, I do mean those graces dwell so within thee, 

Gratefulness, sweetness, holy love, hearty regard) 
Such thing cannot I seek (despair hath giv'n me my answer : 

Despair most tragical clause to a deadly request) 
Such thing cannot he hope, that knows thy determinate hardness. 

Hard like a rich marble : hard, but a fair diamond. 
Can those eyes, that of eyes drown'd in most hearty flowing tears 

(Tears and tears of a man ? had no return to remorse) 
Can those eyes now yield to the kind conceit of a sorrow. 

Which ink only relates, but ne laments, ne replies ? 
Ah, that, that do I not conceive (though that to ray bliss were) 

More than Nestor's years, more than a King's diadem. 
Ah, that, that do I not conceive ; to the Heaven when a Mouse 

Then may I hope to achieve grace of a heavenly Tiger. 
But, but alas, like a man condemned doth crave to be heard 

Not that he hopes for amends of the disaster he feels. 
But finding the approach of death with an inly relenting, 

Gives an adieu to the world, as to his only delight : 
Right so my boiling heart, inflam'd with fire of a fair eye. 

Bubbling out doth breathe signs of his huge dolours : 
Now that he finds to what end his life and love be reserved. 

And that he thence must part, where to live only he liv'd. 
O fair, O fairest, are such the triumphs to thy fairness ? 

Can death beauty become? must I be such monument? 
Must I be only the mark shall prove that virtue is angry ? 

Shall prove that fierceness can with a white dove abide ? 
Shall to the world appear that faith and love be rewarded 

With mortal disdain, bent to unendly revenge. 
Unto revenge ? O sweet, on a wretch wilt thou be revenged? 

Shall such high planets tend to the loss of a worm ? 
And to revenge who do bend, would in that kind be revenged 

As th' offence was done, and go beyond if he can. 
All my offence was love : with love then must I be chastened ; 

And with more, by the laws that to revenge do belong. 
If that love be a fault, more fault, more fault in you to be lovely : 

Love never had me oppressed, but that I saw to be lov'd. 
You be the cause that I lov'd : what Reason blameth a shadow. 

That with a body 't goes ? since by a body it is ? 


If that love you did hate, you should your beauty have hidden : 

You should those fair eyes have with a veil covered. 
But fool, fool that I am, those eyes would shine from a dark cave : 

What veils then do prevail, but to a more miracle ? 
Or those golden locks, those locks which lock me to bondag'e, 

Tom you should disperse unto the blasts of a wind. 
But fool, fool that I am, thoug-h I had but a hair of her head 

EVn as I am, so I should unto that hair be a thrall. 
Or with fair hands, nails (O hand which nails me to this death) 

You should have your face, since love is ill blemished. 
O wretch, what do I say ? should that fair face be defaced ? 

Should my too much sight cause so true a sun to be lost ? 
First let Cimmerian darkness be my only habitation : 

First be mine eyes puU'd out, first be ray brain perished, 
E're that I should consent to do so excessive a damage 

Unto the earth, by the hurt of this her heavenly jewel. 
O not, but such love you say you could have afforded, 

As might learn temp'rance, void of a rage's events. 
O sweet simplicity ; from whence should love be so learned ? 

Unto Cupid, that Boy, should a pedant be found ? 
Well, but sulky I was : Reason to ray passion yielded, 

Passion unto my rage, rage to a hasty revenge. 
But what's this for a fault, for which such faith be abolished, 

Such faith, so stainless, inviolate, violent ? 
Shall I not? O may I not thus yet refresh the remembrance. 

What sweet joys I had once, and what a place I did hold? 
Shall I not once object, that you, you granted a favour 

Unto the man, whom now such miseries you award ? 
Bend your thoughts to the dear sweet words which then to me 
giv'n were. 

Think what a world is now, think who hath alt' red her heart. 
What ? was I then worthy such good, now worthy such evil ? 

Now fled, then cherished? then so nigh, now so remote? 
Did not a rosed breath from lips rosy proceeding. 

Say, that I well should find in what a care I was had ? 
With much more : Now what do I find, but care to abhor me ? 

Care that I sink in grief, care that I live banished? 
And banished do I live, nor now will seek a recovery. 

Since so she will, whose will is to me more than a law. 
If then a man in most ill case may give you a farewell : 

Farewell, long farewell, all ray woe, all my delight. 

What this would have wrought in her, she herself could not tell, 
for, before her reason could moderate the disputation between 
favour and faultiness, her sister and Miso, called her down to 
entertain Zelmane, who was come to visit the two sisters, about 
whom, as about two poles, the sky of beauty was turned : while 

304 ARCADIA [book hi. 

Gynecia wearied her bed with her melancholy sickness, and made 
Miso's shrewdness (who like a spirit set to keep a treasure, barred 
Zelmane from any further conference) to be the lieutenant of her 
jealousy ; both she and her husband driving Zelmane to such a 
straight of resolution, either of impossible granting, or dangerous 
refusing, as the best escape she had was (as much as she could) to 
avoid their company. So as this day, being the fourth day after 
the uproar (Basilius being with his sick wife, conferring upon such 
examinations as Philanax and other of his noblemen had made of 
this late sedition, all touching Cecropia, with vehement suspicion 
of giving either flame or fuel unto it) Zelmane came with her body, 
to find her mind, which -was gone long before her, and had gotten 
his seat in Philoclea, who now with a bashful cheerfulness (as 
though she were ashamed that she could not choose but be glad) 
joined with her sister in making much of Zelmane. 

And so as they sat devising how to give more feathers to the 
wings of time, there came to the lodge-door six maids, all in one 
livery of scarlet petticoats, which were tucked up almost to their 
knees, the petticoats themselves being in many places garnished 
with leaves, their legs naked, saving that above the ankles they 
had little black silk laces, upon which did hang a few silver bells, 
like which they had a little above their elbows upon their bare 
arms. Upon their hair they wore garlands of roses and gilliflowers, 
and the hair was so dressed, as that came again above the garlands, 
interchanging a mutual covering so that it was doubtful whether 
the hair dressed the garlands, or the garlands dressed the hair. 
Their breasts liberal to the eye ; the face of the foremost of them 
in excellency fair ; and of the rest lovely, if not beautiful : and 
beautiful might have been, if they had not suffered greedy Phoebus 
over-often and hard, to kiss them. Their countenances full of a 
graceful gravity, so as the gesture match with the apparel, it might 
seem, a wanton modesty, an enticing soberness. Each of them 
had an instrument of music in their hands, which comforting their 
well-pleasing tunes, did charge each ear with unsensibleness that 
did not lend itself unto them. The music entering alone into the 
lodge, the ladies were all desirous to see from whence so pleasant 
a guest was come : and therefore went out together, where before 
they could take the pains to doubt, much less to ask the question 
of their quality, the fairest of them (with a gay, but yet discreet 
demeanour) in this sort spoke to them. 

" Most excellent ladies (whose excellencies have power to make 
cities envy those woods, and solitariness to be accounted the 
sweetest company) vouchsafe our message your gracious hearing, 
which as it comes from love, so comes it from lovely persons. 
The maids of all this coast of Arcadia, understanding the often 

fiooKin.l ARCADIA 305 

access that certain shepherds of those quarters are allowed to have 
in this forbidden place, and that their rural sports are not disdained 
of you, have been stirred up with emulation to them, and affection 
to you, to bring forth something, which might as well breed your 
contentment: and therefore hoping that the goodness of their 
intention, and the hurtlessness of their sex, shall excuse the breach 
of the commandment in coming to this place unsent for, they chose 
out us to invite both your princely parents, and yourselves to a 
place in the woods about half a mile hence, where they have 
provided some such sports, as they trust your gracious acceptations 
will interpret to be delightful. We have been at the other lodge, 
but finding them there busied in weightier affairs, our trust is that 
you will not deny the shining of your eyes upon us. The ladies 
stood in some doubt whether they should go or not, lest Basilius 
might be angry withal : But Miso (that had been at none of the 
pastorals, and had a great desire to lead her old senses abroad to 
some pleasure) told them plainly, they should nor will, nor choose, 
but go thither, and make the honest country people know that 
they were not so squeamish as folks thought of them. The ladies 
glad to be warranted by her authority, with a smiling humbleness 
obeyed her; Pamela only casting a seeking look, whether she 
could see Dorus (who poor wretch wandered half mad for sorrow 
in the woods, crying for pardon of her who could not hear him) 
but indeed was grieved for his absence, having given the wound 
to him through her own heart. But so the three ladies and Miso 
went with those six Nymphs, conquering the length of the way 
with the force of music, leaving only Mopsa behind, who disgraced 
weeping with her countenance, because her mother would not 
suffer her to show her new scoured face among them. But the 
place appointed, as they thought, rnet them half in their way; so 
well were they pleased with the sweet tunes and pretty conversa- 
tion of their inviters. There found they in the midst of the thickest 
part of the wood, a little square place, not burdened with trees, 
but with a board covered and beautified with the pleasantgst 
fruits that sun-burned Autumn could deliver to them. The maids 
besought the ladies to sit down and taste of the swelling grapes, 
which seemed great with child of Bacchus : and of the divers 
coloured plums, which gave the eye a" pleasant taste before they 
came to the mouth. The ladies would not show to scorn their 
provision; but ate and' drank a little of their cool wine, which 

seemed to laugh for joy to come to such lips, ' ■ -'■ ' 

But after the collation was ended, and' that they footed for the 
commg forth of such devices as were prepared fof them, there 
rushed out of the woods twenty armed men, who round about 
environed them, and laying hold on Zelmane before she could 


306 ARCADIA [book m. 

draw her sword, and taking it from her, put hoods over the heads 
of all four, and so muffled, by force set them on horse-back, and 
carried them away ; the sisters crying in vain for succour, while 
Zelmane's heart was rent in pieces with rage of the injury and 
disdain of her fortune. But when they had carried them four or 
five miles further, they left Miso with a gag in her mouth, and 
bound hand and foot, so to take her fortune ; and brought the 
three ladies (by that time the night seemed with her silence to 
conspire to their treason) to a castle about ten miles from the 
lodges, where they were fain to take a boat which waited for them, 
for the castle stood in the midst of a great lake upon a high rock, 
where partly by art, but principally by nature, it was by all men 
esteemed impregnable. But at the castle-gate their faces were 
discovered, and there were met with a great number of torches, 
after whom the sisters knew their aunt-in-law Cecropia. But that 
sight increased the deadly terror of the princesses, looking for 
nothing but death, since they were in the power of the wicked 
Cecropia, who yet came unto them, making courtesy the outside of 
mischief, and desiring them not to be discomforted for they were 
in a place dedicated to their service. Philoclea (with a look where 
love shined through the midst of fear) besought her to be good 
unto them, having never deserved evil of her. But Pamela's 
high heart disdaining humbleness to injury, "Aunt," said she, 
" what you have determined of us I pray you do it speedily ; for 
njy part I look for no service, where I find violence." 

. But Cecropia, using no more words with them, conveyed them 
all three to several lodgings (Zelmane's heart so swelling with spite 
that she could not bring forth a word) and so left them ; first taking 
from them their knives, because they should do themselves no 
hurt, before she had determined of them : and then giving such 
order that they wanted nothing but liberty and comfort, she went 
to her son, who yet kept his bed, because of his wound he had 
received of Zelmane, and told him whom now he had in his power. 
Amphialus was but even then returned from far countries where he 
had won immortal fame both of courage and courtesy, when he met 
with the princesses, and was hurt by Zelmane, so that he was utterly 
ignorant of all his mother's wicked devices, to which he would never 
have consented, being (like a rose out of a briar) an excellent son 
of an evil mother ■ and now, when he heard of this, was as much 
amazed as if he had seen the sun fall to the earth. And therefore 
desired his mother that she would tell him the whole discourse, 
how 3.11 these matters had happened. " Son," said she, " I will do 
it willingly, and since all is done for you I will hide nothing from 
you. And howsoever I might be ashamed to tell it to strangers who 
would think it wickedness, yet what is done for your sake (how evil 

BOOK 111.] ARCADIA 307 

soever to others) to you is virtue. To begin then even with the 
beginning ; this doting fool Basilius that now reigns, having lived 
unmarried until he was nigh threescore years old (and in all his 
speeches affirming, and in all his doings, assuring that he never 
would marry) made all the eyes of this country to be bent upon 
your father, his only brother (but younger by thirty years) as upon 
the undoubted successor, being indeed a man worthy to reign, 
thinking nothing enough for himself: where this goose (you see) 
puts down his head, before there be anything near to touch him. 
So that he holding place and estimation as heir of Arcadia, obtained 
me of my father the king of Argos, his brother helping to the 
conclusion, with protesting his bachelorly intentions, for else you 
may be sure the king of Argos, nor his daughter, would have 
suffered their royal blood to be stained with the base name of a 
subjection. So that I came into this country as apparent princess 
thereof, and accordingly was courted and followed of all the ladies 
of this country. My port and pomp did well become a king of 
Argos's daughter : in my presence their tongues were turned into 
ears, and their ears were captives unto my tongue ; their eyes 
admired my majesty, and happy was he or she, on whom I would 
suffer the beams thereof to fall. Did I go to church ? It seemed 
the very gods waited for me, their devotions not being solemnized 
till I was ready. Did I walk abroad to see any delight ? Nay, 
my walking was the delight itself : for to it was the concourse, one 
thrusting upon another, who might show himself most diligent and 
serviceable towards me : my sleeps were enquired after, and my 
wakings never unsaluted : the very gate of my house full of 
principal persons, who were glad if their presents had received a 
grateful acceptation. And in this felicity wert thou born, the very 
earth submitting itself unto thee to be trodden as by his prince ; 
and to that pass had my husband's virtue (by my good help) within 
short time brought it, with a plot we laid, as we should not have 
needed to have waited the tedious work of a natural end of Basilius, 
when the heavens (I think envying my great felicity) then stopped 
thy father's breath, when he breathed nothing but power and 
sovereignty. Yet did not thy orphancy, or my widowhood, deprive 
us of the delightful prospect which the hill of honour doth yield, 
while expectation of thy succession did bind dependencies unto us. 
"But before, my son, thou wert come to the age to feel the 
sweetness of authority, this beast (whom I can never name with 
patience) falsely and fooUshly married this Gynecia, then a young 
girl, and brought her to sit above me in all feasts, to turn her 
shoulder to me-ward in all our solemnities. It is certain it is not 
so great a spite to be surmounted by strangers as by one's own 
allies. Think then what my mind was, since withal there is no 

368 ARCADIA [book m. 

question, the fall is greater from the first to the second, than from 
the second to the undermost. The rage did swell in my heart so 
much the more as it was fain to be suppressed in silence, and 
disguised with humbleness. But above all the rest, the grief of 
griefs was, when with these two daughters, now thy prisoners, she 
cut off all hope of thy succession. It was a tedious thing to me 
that my eyes should look lower than anybody's, that (myself being 
by) another's voice than mine should be more respected. But it 
was unsupportable unto me to think that not only I, but thou, 
should'st spend all thy time in such misery, and that the sun should 
see my eldest son less than a prince. And though I had been a 
saint I could not choose, finding the change this change of fortune 
bred unto me : for now from the multitude of followers, silence 
grew to be at my gate, and absence in my presence. The guess 
of my mind could prevail more before than now many of my earnest 
requests. And thou (my dear son) by the fickle multitude no more 
than an ordinary person (born of the mud of the people) regarded. 
But I (remembering that in all miseries weeping becomes fools, and 
practice wise folks) have tried divers means to pull us out of the 
mire of subjection. And though many times fortune failed me, yet 
did I never fail myself. Wild beasts I kept in a cave hard by the 
lodges, which I caused by night to be fed in the place of their 
pastorals. I as then living in my house hard by the place, and 
against the hour they were to meet (having kept the beasts without 
meat) then let them loose, knowing that they would seek their food 
there, and devour what they found. But blind fortune hating sharp 
sighted inventions, made them unluckily to be killed. After I used 
my servant Clinias to stir a notable tumult of country people ; but 
those louts were too gross instruments for delicate conceits. Now 
lastly, finding Philanax's examinations grow dangerous, I thought 
to play double or quit, and with a slight I used of my fine-witted 
wench Artesia, with other maids of mine, would have sent those 
goodly inheritrixes of Arcadia to have pleaded their cause before 
Pluto, but that over fortunately for them, you made me know the 
last day how vehemently this childish passion of love doth torment 
you. Therefore I have brought them unto you, yet wishing rather 
hate than love in you. For hate often begetteth victory, love 
commonly is the instrument of subjection. It is true that I would 
also by the same practice have entrapped the parents, but my 
maids failed of it, not daring to tarry long about it. But this 
sufficeth, since (these being taken away) you are the undoubted 
inheritor, and Basilius will not long over-live this loss." 

O mother," said Amphialus, " speak not of doing them hurt, no 
more than to mine eyes, or my heart, or if I have anything more 
dear- than eyes or heart unto me. Let others find what sweetness 


they will in ever fearing, because they ever are feared ; for my 
part, I will think myself highly entitled, if I may be once by 
Philoclea accepted for a servant." "Well," said Cecropia, I 
would I had born you of my mind, as well as of my body, then 
should you not have sunk under those base weaknesses. But 
since you have tied your thoughts in so wilful a knot, it is happy 
my policy hath brought matters to such a pass that you may both 
enjoy affection, and upon that build your sovereignty." " Alas !" 
said Amphialus, "my heart would fain yield you thanks for setting 
me in the way of felicity, but that fear kills them in me before they 
are fully born. For if Philoclea be displeased, how can I be 
pleased ? if she count it unkindness, shall I give tokens of kind- 
ness? perchance she condemns me of this action, and shall I triumph, 
perchance she drowns now the beauties I love with sorrowful tears, 
and where is then my rejoicing?" "You have reason," said 
Cecropia with a feigned gravity ; " I will therefore send her away 
presently that her contentment may be recovered." " No good 
mother," said Amphialus, " since she is here, I would not for my 
life constrain presence, but rather would I die than consent to 
absence." "Pretty intricate follies," said Cecropia, "but get you 
up and see how you can prevail with her, while I go to the other 
sister. For after, we shall have our hands full to defend ourselves 
if Basilius hap to besiege us." But remembering herself she turned 
back and asked him what he would have done with Zelmane, since 
now he might be avenged of his hurt ? " Nothing but honourably," 
answered Amphialus, "having deserved no other of me, especially 
being (as I hear) greatly cherished of Philoclea, and therefore I 
could wish they were lodged together." " O no," said Cecropia, 
" company confirms resolutions, and loneliness breeds a weariness 
of one's thoughts, and so a sooner consenting to reasonable 

But Amphialus (taking of his mother Philoclea's knives, which 
he kept as a relic since she had worn them) got up, and calling for 
his richest apparel, nothing seemed sumptuous enough for his 
mistress's eyes ; and that which was costly, he feared was not 
dainty ; and though the invention were delicate, he misdoubted 
the making. As careful he was too of the colour ; lest if gay he 
might seem to glory in his injury, and her wrong ; if mourning, it 
might strike some evil presage unto her of her fortune. At length 
he took a garment more rich than glaring, the ground being black 
velvet, richly embroidered with great pearl, and precious stones, 
but they set so among certain tuffs of cypress that the cypress was 
like black clouds, through which the stars might yield a dark lustre. 
About his neck he wore a broad and gorgeous collar, whereof the 
pieces interchangeably answering, the one was of diamonds and 

310 ARCADIA [book m. 

pearl set with a white enamel, so that by the cunning of the 
workman it seemed like a shining ice ; and the other piece being 
of rubies and opals, had a fiery glistering, which he thought 
pictured the two passions of fear and desire, wherein he was 
enchained. His hurt, not yet fully well, made him a little halt, 
but he strove to give the best grace he could unto his halting. 

And in- that sort he went to Philoclea's chamber : whom he 
found (because her chamber was over-lightsome) sitting on that 
side of her bed which was from the window, which did cast such 
a shadow upon her as a good painter would bestow upon Venus, 
when under the trees she bewailed the murder of Adonis : her 
hands and fingers (as it were) indented one within the other ; 
her shoulder leaning to her beds head, and over her head a scarf, 
which did eclipse almost half her eyes, which under it fixed their 
beams upon the wall by, with so steady a manner, as if in that 
place they might well change but not mend their object : and 
so remained they a good while after his coming in, he not daring 
to trouble her, nor she perceiving him, till that (a Uttle varying 
her thoughts, something quickening her senses) she heard him 
as he happened to stir his upper garment : and perceiving him, 
rose up, with a demeanour, where, in the book of beauty, there 
was nothing to be read but sorrow ; for kindness was blotted out, 
and anger was never there. 

But Amphialus who had entrusted his memory with long and 
forcible speeches, found it so locked up in amazement that he 
could pick nothing out of it but the beseeching her to take what 
was done in good part, and to assure herself there was nothing 
but honour meant unto her person. But she making no other 
answer, but letting her hands fall one from the other, which before 
were joined (with eyes something cast aside, and a silent sigh) 
gave him to understand that considering his doings, she thought 
his speech as full of incongruity, as her answer would be void 
of purpose : whereupon he kneeling down, and kissing her hand 
(which she suffered with a countenance witnessing captivity, but 
not kindness) he besought her to have pity of him, whose love 
went beyond the bounds of conceit, much more of uttering : that 
in her hands the balance of his life or death did stand ; whereto 
the least motion of hers would serve to determine, she being 
indeed the mistress of his life, and he her eternal slave, and with 
true vehemency besought her that he might hear her speak ; 
whereupon she suffered her sweet breath to turn itself into these 
kind of words. 

" Alas ! cousin," said she, " what shall my tongue be able to do, 
which is informed by the ears one way, and by the eyes another? 
You call for pity, and use cruelty ; you say you love me, and yet do 


the effects of enmity. You affirm your death is in my hands, but you • 
have brought me to so near a degree of death, as when you will, 
you may lay death upon me, so that while you say, I am mistress 
of your life, I am not mistress of mine own. You entitle yourself 
my slave, but I am sure I am yours. If then violence, injury, 
terror, and depriving of that which is more dear than life itself, 
liberty, be fit orators for affection, you may expect that I will be 
easily persuaded. But if the nearness of our kindred breed any 
remorse in you, or there be any such thing in you, which you 
call love toward me, then let not my fortune be disgraced with the 
name of imprisonment ; let not my heart waste itself by being 
vexed with feel ng evil, and fearing worse. Let not me be a cause 
of my parents' woeful destruction ; but restore me to myself, and 
so doing, I shall account I have received myself of you. And 
what I say for myself, I say for my dear sister, and my friend 
Zelmane, for I desire no well-being without they may be partakers." 
With that her tears rained down from her heavenly eyes, and 
seemed to water the sweet and beautiful flowers of her face. 

But Amphialus was like the poor woman, who loving a tame 
doe she had above all earthly things, having long played withal, 
and made it feed at her hand and lap, is constrained at length 
by famine, all her flock being spent, and she fallen into extreme 
poverty, to kill the deer to sustain her life. Many a pitiful look 
doth she cast upon it, and many a time doth she draw back her 
hand before she can give the stroke. For even so Amphialus 
by a hunger-starved affection, was compelled to offer this injury, 
and yet the same affection made him with a tormenting grief 
think unkindness in himself that he could find in his heart any 
way to restrain her freedom. But at length, neither able to grant 
nor deny, he thus answered her : " Dear lady," said he, " I will 
not say unto you (how justly soever I may do it) that I am neither 
author nor accessory unto this your withholding; for since I do 
not redress it, I am as faulty as if I had begun it. But this 
I protest unto you (and this protestation of mine let the heavens 
hear, and if I lie, let them answer me with a deadly thunderbolt) 
that in my soul I wish I had never seen the Ught, or rather, that 
I never had a father to beget such a child, than that by my means 
those eyes should overflow their own beauties ; than by my means 
the sky of your virtue should be overclouded with sorrow. But 
woe is me, most excellent lady, I find myself most willing to obey 
you : neither truly do mine ears receive the least word you speak, 
with any less reverence than as absolute and unresistable 
commandments. But alas, that tyrant love (which now possesseth 
the hold of all my life and reason) will no way suffer it. It is love, 
it is love, not I which disobey you. What then shall I say? 

312 ARCADIA [book III, 

but that I, who am ready to lie under your feet, to venture, nay 
to lose my life at your least commandment : I am not the stay 
of your freedom, but love, love, which ties you in your own knots. 
It is you yourself that imprison yourself: it is your beauty which 
makes those castle walls embrace you : it is your own eyes which 
reflect upon themselves this injury. Then is there no other 
remedy, but that you some way vouchsafe to satisfy this love's 
vehemency ; which since it grew in yourself) without question 
you shall find it (far more than I) tractable." 

But with these words Philoclea fell to so extreme a quaking, 
and her lively whiteness did degenerate to such a deadly paleness 
that Amphialus feared some dangerous trance : so that taking 
her hand, and feeling that it (which was wont to be one of the 
chief firebrands of Cupid) had all the sense of it wrapt up in 
coldness, he began humbly to beseech her to put away all fear, 
and to assure herself upon the vow he made thereof unto God, 
and herself, that the uttermost forces he would ever employ 
to conquer her affection, should be desire and desert. That 
promise brought Philoclea again to herself, so that slowly lifting 
up her eyes upon him, with a countenance ever courteous, but 
then languishing, she told him that he should do well to do so, 
if indeed he had ever tasted what true love was : for that where 
now she did bear him goodwill, she should (if he took any other 
way) hate and abhor the very thought of him, assuring him withal, 
that though his mother had taken away her knives, yet the house 
of death had so many doors that she would easily fly into it if ever 
she found her honour endangered. 

Amphialus having the cold ashes of care cast upon the coals 
of desire, leaving some of his mother's gentlewomen to wait upon 
Philoclea, himself indeed a prisoner to his prisoner, and making 
all his authority to be but a foot-stool to hmnbleness, went from 
her to his mother. To whom with words, which affection indited, 
but amazement uttered, he delivered what had passed between 
him and Philoclea, beseeching her to try what her persuasions 
could do with her, while he gave order for all such things as were 
necessary against such forces, as he looked daily Basilius would 
bring before his castle. His mother bade him quiet himself, for 
she doubted not to take fit times : But that the best way was, 
first to let her own passion tire itself. 

So they called Clinias and some other of their council, advised 
upon their present affairs. First, he dispatched private letters to 
all those principal lords and gentlemen of the country whom he 
thought either alliance, or friendship to himself might draw, with 
special motion from the general consideration of duty : not 
omitting all such, whom either youthful age, or youthlike minds 


did fill with unlimited desires : besides such whom any discontent- 
ment made hungry of change, or an overspended want, made 
want a civil war : to each (according to the counsel of his mother) 
conforming himself after their humours. To his friend, 
friendliness ; to the ambitious, great expectations ; to the 
displeased, revenge ; to the greedy, spoil ; wrapping their hopes 
with such cunning that they rather seemed given over unto them 
as partakers, than promises sprung of necessity. Then sent he 
to his mother's brother, the king of Argos ; but he was then 
so over laid with war himself as from thence he could attend 
small succour. 

But because he knew how violently rumours do blow the sails 
of popular judgments, and how few there be that can discern 
between truth arid truth likeness, between shows and substance, 
he caused a justification of this his action to be written, whereof 
were sowed* abroad many copies, which with some glosses of 
probability, might hide indeed the foulness of his treason ; and 
from true common places, fetch down most false applications. 
For beginning in how much the duty which is owed to the country, 
goes beyond all other duties, since in itself it contains them all ; 
and that for the respect thereof, not only all tender respects 
of kindred, or whatsoever other friendships, are to be laid aside, 
but that even long-held opinions (rather builded upon a secret 
of government than any ground of truth) are to be forsaken ; he 
fell by degrees to show that since the end whereto anything is 
directed is ever to be of more noble reckoning, than the thing 
thereto directed, that therefore the weal-public was more to be 
regarded than any person or magistrate that thereunto was 
ordained: the feeling consideration whereof had moved him 
(though as near of kin to Basilius as could be, yet) to set 
principally before his eyes, the good estate of so many thousands 
over whom Basilius reigned, rather than so to hood-wink himself 
with affection, as to suffer the realm to run to manifest ruin. 
The care whereof did kindly appertain to those who being 
subaltern magistrates and officers of the crown, were to be 
employed, as from the prince, so for the people ; and of all other, 
especially himself, who being descended of the royal race, and 
next heir male, nature had no sooner opened his eyes, but that 
the soil whereupon they did look, was to look for at his hands 
a continual carefulness : which as from his childhood he had ever 
carried, so now finding that his uncle had not only given over 
all care of government, but had put into the hands of Philanax 
(a man neither in birth comparable to many, nor for his corrupt, 
proud, and partial dealing, liked of any) but beside, had set hi? 
*i>. Scattered. 

314 ARCADIA [book m. 

daughters, in whom the whole estate, as next heirs thereunto, had 
no less interest than himself, in so unfit and ill guarded a place, 
that it were not only dangerous for their persons, but (if they 
should be conveyed to any foreign country) to the whole common- 
wealth pernicious, that therefore he had brought them into this 
strong castle of his, which way, if it might seem strange, they 
were to consider that new necessities required new remedies, 
but there they should be served and honoured as belonged to 
their greatness until by the general assembly of the states it 
should be determined how they should to their best (both private 
and public) advantage be matched ; vowing all faith and duty 
both to the father and children, never by him to be violated. But 
if in the meantime, before the states could be assembled, he 
should be assailed, he would then for his own defence take arms ; 
desiring all that either tendered the dangerous case of their 
country, or in their hearts loved justice, to defend him in this 
just action. And if the prince should command them otherwise, 
yet to know that therein he was no more to be obeyed than if he 
should call for poison to hurt himself withal : since all that was 
done, was done for his service, howsoever he might (seduced by 
Philanax) interpret of it : he protesting that whatsoever he should 
do for his own defence, should be against Philanax, and no way 
against Basilius. 

To this effect, amplified with arguments and examples, and 
painted with rhetorical colours, did he sow* abroad many 
discourses, which as they prevailed with some of more quick than 
sound conceit to run his fortune with him, so in many did it breed 
a coolness, to deal violently against him, and a false-minded 
neutrality to expect the issue. But besides the ways he used to 
weaken the adverse party, he omitted nothing for the strengthening 
of his own. The chief trust whereof, because he wanted men to 
keep the field, he reposed in the surety of his castle, which at least 
would win him much time, the mother of many mutations. To 
that therefore he bent both his outward and inward eyes, striving 
to make art strive with nature, to whether of them two that 
fortification should be most beholding. The seat nature bestowed 
but art gave the building ; which as his rocky hardness would not 
yield to undermining force, so to open assaults he took counsel of 
skill how to make all approaches, if not impossible, yet difficult ; 
as well at the foot of the castle, as round about the lake, to give 
unquiet lodgings to them, whom only enmity would make 
neighbours. Then omitted he nothing of defence, as well simple 
defence as that which did defend by offending, fitting instruments 
of mischief to places whence the mischief might be roost liberally 

* z!.f. Spread. 


bestowed. Neither was his smallest care for victuals, as well for 
the providing that which should suffice, both in store and goodness, 
as in well preserving it, and wary distributing it, both in quantity 
and quality, spending that first which would keep least. 

But wherein he shai-pened his wits to the piercingest point, was 
touching his men (knowing them to be the weapon of weapons, 
and master-spring, as it were, which makes all the rest to stir : 
and that therefore in the art of man stood the quintessence and 
ruling skill of all prosperous government, either peaceable or 
military) he chose in number as many as without pestering (and 
so danger of infection) his victual would serve for two years to 
maintain ; all of able bodies, and some few of able minds to direct, 
not seeking many commanders, but contenting himself that the 
multitude should have obeying wits, everyone knowing whom he 
should command, and whom he should obey, the place where, and 
the matter wherein ; distributing each office as near as he could, 
to the disposition of the person that should exercise it : knowing 
no love, danger nor discipline can suddenly alter an habit in 
nature. Therefore would he not emply the still man to a shifting 
practice, nor the liberal man to be a dispenser of his victuals, nor 
the kind-hearted man to be a punisher ; but would exercise their 
virtues in sorts, where they might be profitable, employing his 
chief care to know them all particularly, and thoroughly regarding 
also the constitution of their bodies ; some being able better to 
abide watching, some hunger, some labour, making his benefit of 
each ability, and not forcing beyond power. Time to everything 
by just proportion he allotted, and as well in that, as in everything 
else, no small error winked at, lest greater should be animated. 
Even of vices he made his profit, making the cowardly CHnias to 
have care of the watch, which he knew his own fear would make 
him very wakefully perform. And before the siege began, he 
himself caused rumours to be sowed, and libels to be spread 
against himself, fuller of malice than witty persuasion, partly to 
know those that would be apt to stumble at such motions, that he 
might call them from the faithfuUer band, but principally, because 
m necessity they should not know when any such things were in 
earnest attempted, whether it were, or not of his own invention. 
But even tlien (before the enemies face came near to breed any 
terror) did he exercise his men daily in all their charges, as if 
danger had presently presented his most hideous presence- 
himself rather mstructing by example than precept ; being neither 
more sparmg in travel, nor spending in diet than the meanest 
soldier; his hand and body disdaining no base matters nor 
shrinking from the heavy. 

The only odds was, that when others took breath, he sighed; 

3i6 ARCADIA [book m. 

and when others rested, he crossed his arms. For love passing 
through the pikes of danger, and tumbling itself in the dust of 
labour, yet still made him remember his sweet desire and beautiful 
image. Often when he had begun to command one, somewhat 
before half the sentence were ended, his inward guest did so 
entertain him that he lyould break it off, and a pretty while after 
end it, when he had (to the marvel of the standers by) sent himself 
to talk with his own thoughts. Sometimes when his hand was 
lifted up to do something, as if with the sight of Gorgon's head he 
had been suddenly turned into a stone, so would he there abide 
with his eyes planted, and hands lifted, till at length coming to 
the use of himself, he would look about whether any had perceived 
him ; then he would accuse, and in himself condemn all those wits 
that durst affirm idleness to be the well-spring of love. " O," 
would he say, " all you that affect the title of wisdom by ungrateful 
scorning the ornaments of nature, am I now piping in a shadow ? 
Or do slothful feathers now enwrap me? Is not hate before me, 
and doubt behind me ? Is not danger of the one side, and shame 
of the other ? And do I not stand upon pain and travail, and yet 
over all, my affection triumphs? The more I stir about urgent 
affairs, the more methinks the very stirring breeds a breath to 
blow the coals of my love ; the more I exercise my thoughts, the 
more they increase the appetite of my desires. O sweet Philoclea 
(with that he would cast up his eyes, wherein some water did 
appear, as if they would wash themselves against they should see 
her) thy heavenly face is my astronomy ; thy sweet virtue, my 
sweet philosophy ; let me profit therein, and farewell all other 
cogitations. But alas ! my mind misgives me, for your planets 
bear a contrary aspect unto me. Woe, woe is me, they threaten 
my destruction ; and whom do they threaten this destruction ? 
even him that loves them ; and by what means will they destroy, 
but by loving them? O dear, though killing, eyes, shall death 
head his dart with the gold of Cupid's arrow? shall death take 
his aim from the rest of beauty? O beloved, though hating, 
Philoclea, how, if thou be'st merciful, hath cruelty stolen into thee ? 
or how, if thou be'st cruel, doth cruelty look more beautiful than 
ever mercy did ? or alas ! is it my destiny that makes mercy cruel ; 
like an evil vessel which turns sweet liquor to sourness ? so when 
thy grace falls upon me, my wretched constitution makes it become 
fierceness." Thus would he exercise his eloquence when she 
could not hear him, and be dumb-stricken when her presence gave 
him fit occasion of speaking : so that his wit could find out no 
other refuge but the comfort and counsel of his mother, desiring 
her, whose thoughts were unperplexed, to use for his sake the 
most prevailing manners of intei'cessioja. 

BOOK in.] ARCADIA 3^7 

She seeing her son's safety depend thereon, though her pride 
much disdained the name of a desirer, took the charge upon her, 
not doubting the easy conquest of an unexpert virgin, who had 
already with subtilty and impudency begun to undermine a 
monarchy. Therefore weighing Philoclea's resolutions by the 
counterpoise of her own youthful thoughts, which she then called 
to mind, she doubted not at least to make Philoclea to receive the 
poison distilled in sweet liquor which she with little disguising had 
drank up thirstily. Therefore she went softly to Philoclea's 
chamber, and peeping through the side of the door, then being a 
little open, she saw Philoclea sitting low upon a cushion in such a 
given-over manner, that one would have thought silence, solitari- 
ness, and melancholy were come there under the ensign of mishap, 
to conquer delight, and drive him from his natural seat of beauty : 
her tears came dropping down like rain in sunshine, and she not 
taking heed to wipe the tears, they hung upon her cheeks and lips 
as upon cherries which the dropping tree bedeweth. In the 
dressing of her hair and apparel, she might see neither a careful 
art, nor an art of carelessness, but even left to a neglected chance, 
which yet could no more unperfect her perfections than a die any 
way cast could lose i.ts squareness. 

■ Cecropia, stirred with no other pity but for her son, came in, and 
hailing kindness into her countenance, " What ails this sweet lady," 
said she, " will you mar so good eyes with weeping ? shall tears 
take away the beauty of that complexion which the women of 
Arcadia wish for, and the men long after? Fie of this peevish 
sadness ; insooth it is untimely for your age. Look upon your own 
body and see whether it deserve to pine away with sorrow : see 
whether you will have these hands (with that she took one of her 
hands, and kissing it, looked upon it as if she were enamoured 
with it) fade from their whiteness which makes one desire to touch 
them ; and their softness, which rebounds again a desire to look on 
them, and become dry, lean and yellow, and make everybody 
wonder at the change, and say, that sure you had used some art 
before, which now you had left ; for if the beauties had been 
natural, they would never so soon have been blemished. Take a 
glass, and see whether those tears become your eyes : although 
I must confess, those eyes are able to make tears comely." " Alas ! 
■madam," answered Philoclea, •' I know not whether my tears 
become my eyes, but I am sure my eyes thus beteared, become 
my fortune." " Your fortune," said Cecropia, " if she could see to 
attire herself, she would put on her best raiments. For I see, and 
I see it with grief, and (to tell you true) unkindness, you misconstrue 
everything that only for your sake is attempted. You think you 
are ofTended, and are, indeed, defended : you esteem yourself a 

3i8 ARCADIA [book m. 

prisoner, and are, in truth, a mistress ; you fear hate, and shall 
find love. And truly, I had a thing to say unto you, but it is no 
matter since I find you are so obstinately melancholy as that you 
woo his fellowship, I will spare my pains, and hold my peace : " 
and so stayed indeed, thinking Philoclea would have had a female 
inquisitiveness of the matter. But she, who rather wished to 
unknow what she knew than to burden her heart with more 
hopeless knowledge, only desired her to have pity of her, and if, 
indeed, she did mean her no hurt, then to grant her liberty ; 
for else the very grief and fear would prove her unappointed 

" For that," said Cecropia, " believe me upon the faith of a king's 
daughter, you shall be free, so soon as your freedom may be free 
of mortal danger, being brought hither for no other cause, but to 
prevent such mischiefs as you know not of. But if you think, 
indeed, to win me to have care of you, even as of mine own 
daughter, then lend your ears unto me, and let not your mind arm 
itself with a wilfulness to be flexible to nothing. But if I speak reason, 
let reason have his due reward, persuasion. " Then sweet niece," 
said she, " I pray you pre-suppose, that now, even in the midst of 
your agonies, which you paint unto yourself most horrible, wishing 
with sighs, and praying with vows, for a soon and safe delivery : 
imagine niece (I say) that some heavenly spirit should appear unto 
you, and bid you follow him through the door that goes into the 
garden, assuring you that you should thereby return to your dear 
mother, and what other delights soever your mind esteems delights, 
would you (sweet niece) would you refuse to follow him, and say that 
if he led you not through the chief gate, you would not enjoy your 
over-desired liberty? Would you not drink the wine you thirst 
for, without it were in such a glass as you especially fancied ? Tell 
me (dear niece) but I will answer for you, because I know your 
reason and wit is such, as must needs conclude that such niceness 
can no more be in you, to disgrace such a mind, than disgraceful- 
ness can have any place in so faultless a beauty. Your wisdom 
would assuredly determine how the mark were hit, not whether the 
bow were of yew or no, wherein you shot. If this be so, and thus 
sure (my dear niece) it is, then, I pray you, imagine that I am 
that same good angel, who grieving in your grief, and, in truth, not 
able to suffer that bitter sighs should be sent forth with so sweet a 
breath, am come to lead you, not only to your desired and imagined 
happiness, but to a true and essential happiness ; not only to 
liberty, but to liberty with commandment. The way I will show 
you ; which if it be not the gate builded hitherto in your private 
choice, yet shall it be a door to bring you through a garden of 
pleasures, as sweet as this life can bring forth ; nay rather, which 



makes this life to be a life : My son (let it be no blemish to him 
that I name him my son, who was your father's own nephew ; for 
you know I am no small king's daughter) my son, I say, far passing 
the nearness of his kindred with nearness of goodwill, and striving 
to match your matchless beauty with a matchless affection, doth 
by me present unto you the full enjoying of your liberty, so that 
with this gift you will accept a greater, which is, this castle, with 
all the rest which you know he hath in honourable quantity, and 
will confirm his gilt, and your receipt of both, with accepting him 
to be yours. I might say much both for the person and matter ; 
but who will cry out the sun shines ? It is so manifest a profit 
unto you, as the meanest judgment must straight apprehend it ; so 
far it is from the sharpness of yours, thereof to be ignorant. 
Therefore (sweet niece !) let your gratefulness be my intercession 
and your gentleness my eloquence, and let me carry comfort to a 
heart which greatly needs it." 

Philoclea looked upon her, and cast down her eye again : 
" Aunt," said she, " I would I could be so much a mistress of my 
own mind as to yield to my cousin's virtuous request ; for so I 
construe of it. But my heart is already set " (and staying a while 
on that word, she brought forth afterwards) " to lead a virgin's life 
to my death ; for such a vow I have in myself devoutly made." 
" The heavens prevent such a mischief," said Cecropia. " A vow, 
quoth you ? No, no, my dear niece, nature, when you were first 
born, vowed you a woman, and as she made you child of a mother, 
so to do your best to be mother of a child : She gave you beauty 
to move love ; she gave you wit to know love ; she gave you an 
excellent body to reward love ; which kind of liberal rewarding is 
crowned with an unspeakable felicity. For this, as it bindeth the 
receiver, so it makes happy the bestower. This doth not im- 
poverish, but enrich the giver. O the sweet name of a mother ! 

the comfort of comforts to see your children grow up, in whom 
you are, as it were, eternized ! if you could conceive what a heart- 
tickling joy it is to see your own little ones with awful love come 
running to your lap, and like little models of yourself still carry you 
about them, you would think unkindness in your own thoughts 
that ever they did rebel against the mean unto it. But perchance 

1 set this blessedness before your eyes, as captains do victory before 
their soldiers, to which they must come through many pains, griefs 
and dangers : No, I am content you shrink from this my counsel, 
if the way to come unto it be not most of all pleasant." " I know 
not" (answered the sweet Philoclea, fearing lest silence would 
offend for suUenness) "what contentment you speak of; but I am 
sure the best you can make of it (which is marriage) is a burdenous 
yoke." "Ah, dear niece," said Cecropia, "how much you are 

320 ARCADIA [book hi. 

deceived : A yoke, indeed, we all bear, laid upon us in our 
creation, which by marriage is not increased ; but thus far eased 
that you have a yoke fellow to help to draw through the cloddy 
cumbers of this world. O widow-nights, bear witness with me of 
the difference ! How often, alas ! do I embrace the orphan-side 
of my bed which was wont to be imprinted by the body of my dear 
husband, and with tears acknowledge that I now enjoy such a 
liberty as the banished man hath ; who may, if he list, wander 
over the world, but is for ever restrained from his most delightful 
home ? That I have now such a liberty as the sealed dove hath, 
which, being first deprived of eyes, is then by the falconer cast off : 
For believe me, niece, believe me, man's experience is woman's 
best eye-sight. Have you ever seen a pure rose-water kept in a 
crystal glass ? How fine it looks, how sweet it smells while that 
beautiful glass imprisons it ? Break the prison ; and let the water 
take its own course, doth it not embrace dust, and lose all its former 
sweetness and fairness ? Truly so are we, if we have not the stay, 
rather than the restraint of crystalline marriage. My heart melts 
to think of the sweet comforts I, in that happy time, received, when 
I had never cause to care, but the care was doubled : When I never 
rejoiced, but {hat I saw my joy shine in another's eyes. What shall 
I say of the free delight which the heart might embrace without the 
accusing of the inward conscience, or fear of outward shame? 
And is a solitary life as good as this ? Then can one string make 
as good music as a concert ; Then can one colour set forth a beauty. 
But it may be, the general consideration of marriage doth not so 
much mislike you, as the applying of it to him. He is my son, I 
must confess I see him with a mother's eyes, which if they do not 
much deceive me, he is no such one, over whom contempt may 
make a just challenge. He is comely, he is noble, he is rich ; but 
that which in itself should carry all comeliness, nobility and riches, 
he loves you ; and he loves you who is beloved of others. Drive 
not away his affection (sweet lady) and make no other lady here- 
after proudly brag that she hath robbed you of so faithful and 
notable a service." 

Philoclea heard some pieces of her speeches, not otherwise than 
one doth when a tedious prattler cumbers the hearing of a 
delightful music. For her thoughts had left her ears in that 
captivity, and conveyed themselves to behold (with such eyes 
as imagination could lend them) the estate of her Zelmane ; For 
whom how wrell she thought many of those sayings might have 
been used with a far more grateful acceptation. Therefore 
listening not to dispute in a matter, whereof herself was resolved, 
and desired not to inform the other ; she only told her that whilst 
she was so captivated she could not conceive of any such 


persuasions (though never so reasonable) any otherwise than as 
constraints ; and as constraints must needs even in nature abhor 
them, which at her liberty, in their own force of reason, might 
more prevail with her ; and so fain would have returned the 
strength of Cecropia's persuasions, to have procured freedom. 

But neither her witty words in an enemy, nor those words, 
made more than eloquent with passing through such lips, could 
prevail in Cecropia, more than her persuasions could win Philoclea 
to disavow her former vow, or to leave the prisoner Zelmane, 
for the commanding Amphialus. So that both sides being 
desirers, and neither granters, they broke off conference ; Cecropia 
sucking up more and more spite out of her denial, which yet for 
her son's sake she disguised with a vizard of kindness, leaving 
no oflfice unperformed which might either witness, or endear 
her son's affection. Whatsoever could be imagined likely to please 
her was with liberal diligence performed : musics at her window, 
and especially such musics as might (with doleful embassage) 
call the mind to think of sorrow, and think of it with sweetness ; 
with ditties so sensibly expressing Amphialus's case, that every 
word seemed to be but a diversifying of the name of Amphialus. 
Daily presents, as it were oblations to pacify an angry deity, sent 
unto her ; wherein, if the workmanship of the form had striven 
with the sumptuousness of the matter, as much did the invention, 
in the application, contend to have the chief excellency : for they 
were as so many stories of his disgraces, and her perfections ; 
where the richness did invite the eyes, the fashion did entertain 
the eyes, and the device did teach the eyes, the present misery of 
the presenter himself awfully serviceable ; which was the more 
notable, as his authority was manifest. And for the bondage 
wherein she lived, all means used to make known that if it were a 
bondage, it was a bondage only knit in love-knots : but she in heart 
already understanding no language but one, the music wrought, 
indeed, a dolefulness, but it was a dolefulness to be in his power : 
the ditty intended for Amphialus, she translated to Zelmane : the 
presents seemed so many tedious clogs of a thralled obligation : 
and his service, the more diligent it was, the more it did exprobate, 
as she thought, unto her, her unworthy estate : that even he that 
did her service, had authority of commanding her, only construing 
her servitude in his own nature, esteeming it a right, and a right 
better servituae : so that all their shots, how well soever levelled, 
being carried awry from the mark by the storm of her mislike' 
the prince Amphialus affectionately languished, and Cecropia 
spitefully cunning, disdained at the barrenness of their success. 

Which willingly Cecropia would have revenged, but that she 
saw her hurt could not be divided from her son's mischief; 


322 ARCADIA [book hi. 

wherefore she bethought herself to attempt Pamela, whose beauty 
being equal, she hoped if she might be won, that her son's 
thoughts would rather rest on a beautiful gratefulness than still 
be tormented with a disdaining beauty. Therefore giving new 
courage to her wicked inventions, and using the more industry, 
because she had missed in this, and taking even precepts of 
prevailing in Pamela, by her failing in Philoclea, she went to her 
chamber, and (according to her own ungracious method of subtle 
proceeding) stood listening at the door, because that out of the 
circumstance of her present behaviour, there might kindly arise 
a fit beginning of her intended discourse. 

And so she might perceive that Pamela did walk up and down, 
full of deep, though patient thoughts. For her look and 
countenance was settled, her pace soft, and almost still of one 
measure, without any passionate gesture, or violent motion : till 
at length, as it were awaking, and strengthening herself ; " Well," 
said she, "yet this is the best, and of this I am sure, that 
howsoever they wrong me, they cannot over-master God : no 
darkness blinds his eyes, no jail bars Him out. To whom then 
else should I fly, but to Him for succour?" and therewith kneeling 
down even where she stood, she thus said. 

" O all-seeing light, and eternal life of all things, to whom 
nothing is either so great that it may resist, or so small that it 
is contemned : look upon my misery wit;h Thine eye of mercy, 
and let Thine infinite power vouchsafe to limit out some proportion 
of deliverance unto me, as to Thee shall seem most convenient. 
Let not injury, O Lord, triumph over me, and let my faults by 
Thy hand be corrected, and make not mine unjust enemy the 
minister of Thy justice. But yet, my God, if in Thy wisdom, 
this be the aptest chastisement for my unexcusable folly, if this low 
bondage be fittest for my over-high desires ; if the pride of my 
not enough humble heart, be thus to be broken, O Lord, I yield 
unto Thy will, and joyfully embrace what sorrow Thou wilt have 
me suffer. Only thus much let me crave of Thee, let my craving, 
O Lord, be accepted of Thee (since even that proceeds from Thee) 
let me crave, even by the noblest title, which in my greatest 
affliction I may give myself, that I am Thy creature, and by Thy 
goodness, which is Thyself, that Thou wilt suffer some beam of 
Thy majesty so to shine into my mind, that it may still depend 
confidently upon Thee. Let calamity be the exercise, but not 
the overthrow of my virtue : let their power prevail, but prevail 
not to destruction : let my greatness be their prey: let my pain 
be the sweetness of their revenge : let them (if so it seem good 
unto Thee) vex me with more and more punishment. But, O Lord, 
let neyer their wickedness have such a hand, but that I may carry 


a pure mind in a pure body !" and pausing awhile, "And, O most 
gracious Lord," said she, "whatever becomes of me, preserve 
the virtuous Musidorus." 

The other part Cecropia might well hear ; but this latter prayer 
for Musidorus, her heart held it, as so jewel-like a treasure that 
it would scarce trust her own hps withal. But this prayer sent 
to heaven from so heavenly a creature, with such a fervent grace 
as if devotion had borrowed her body to make of itself a most 
beautiful representation ; with her eyes so lifted to the skyward 
that one would have thought they had begun to fly thitherward 
to take their place among their fellow stars ; her naked hands 
raising up their whole length, and as it were, kissing one another, 
as if the right had been the picture of zeal, and the left of 
humbleness, which both united themselves to make tljeir suits 
more acceptable. Lastly, all her senses being rather tokens than 
instruments of her inward motions, altogether had so strange 
a working power, that even the hardhearted wickedness of 
Cecropia, if it found not a love of that goodness, yet it felt an 
abashment at that goodness, and if she had not a kindly remorse, 
yet had she an irksome accusation of her own naughtiness ; so 
that she was put from the bias of her fore-intended lesson. For 
well she found there was no way at that time to take that mind 
but with some, at least, image of virtue ; and what the figure 
thereof was, her heart knew not. 

Yet did she prodigally spend her ' uttermost eloquence, leaving 
no argument unprovided which might with any force invade her 
excellent judgment ; the justness of the request being but for 
marriage; the worthiness of the suiter: then her own present 
fortune : fortune, which should not only have amendment, but 
felicity : besides falsely making her believe that her sister would 
think herself happy if now she might have his love, which before 
she contemned : and obliquely touching, what danger it should 
be for her if her son should accept Philoclea in marriage, and 
so match the next heir apparent, she being in his power : yet 
plentifully perjuring how extremely her son loved her, and excusing 
the httle shows he made of it, with the dutiful respect he bare 
unto her ; and taking upon herself that she restrained him, since 
she found she could set no limits to his passions. And as she did 
to Philoclea, so did she to her, with the tribute of gifts seek to 
bring her mind into servitude : and all other means, that might 
either estabhsh a beholdingness, or at least awake a kindness ; 
doing it so, that by reason of their imprisonment, one sister knew 
not how the other was wooed but each might think that only she 
was sought. But if Philoclea with sweet and humble dealing did 
avoid their assaults, she with the majesty of virtue did beat them off. 

324 ARCADIA [book hi. 

But this day their speech was the sooner broken off, by reason 
that he who stood as watch upon the top of the Keep* did not only 
see a great dust rise (which the earth sent up as if it would strive 
to have clouds as well as the air) but might spy sometimes, 
especially when the dust (wherein the naked wind did apparel 
itself) was carried aside from them, the shining of armour ; like 
flashing of lightning, wherewith the clouds did seem to be with 
child, which the sun gilding with his beams it gave a sight 
delightful to any but to them that were to abide the terror. But 
the watch gave a quick alarm to the soldiers within whom practice 
already having prepared, began each, with unabashed hearts, or at 
least countenances, to look to their charge, or obedience which was 
allotted unto them. 

Only Clinias and Amphialus did exceed the bounds of mediocrity, 
the one in his natural coldness of cowardice, the other in heat of 
courage. For Clinias (who was bold only in busy whisperings, 
and even in that whisperingness rather, indeed, confident in his 
cunning that it should not be betrayed than any way bold, if ever 
it should be betrayed) now that the enemy gave a dreadful aspect 
unto the castle, his eyes saw no terror, nor ear heard any martial 
sound but that they multiplied the hideousness of it to his matted 
mind. Before their coming he had many times felt a dreadful 
expectation, but yet his mind (that was willing to ease itself of the 
burden of fear) did sometimes fain unto itself possibility of let, as 
the death of Basilius, the discord of the nobility, and, when other 
cause failed him, the nature of chance served as a cause unto him, 
and sometimes the hearing other men speak valiantly, and the 
quietness of his unassailed senses would make himself believe that 
he durst do something. But now, that present danger did display 
itself unto his eye, and that a dangerous doing must be the only 
mean to prevent the danger of suffering, one that had marked him 
would have judged that his eyes would have run into him, and his 
soul out of him, so unkindly did either take a scent of danger. He 
thought the lake was too shallow, and the walls too thin : he 
misdoubted each man's treason, and conjectured every possibility 
of misfortune, not only forecasting likely perils, but such as all the 
planets together could scarcely have conspired : and already began 
to arm himself, though it was determined he should tarry within 
doors ; and while he armed himself, imagined in what part of the 
vault he would hide himself if the enemies won the castle. Desirous 
he was that everybody should do valiantly but himself; and there- 
fore was afraid to show his fear, but for very fear would have hid 
his fear, lest it should discomfort others : but the more he sought 

" i.e. A strong tower in the middle of a casUe, the last resort of the besieged. 

BOOK in.] ARCADIA 325 

to disguise it, the more the unsuitableness of a weak broken voice 
to high brave words, and of a pale shaking countenance, to a 
gesture of animating, did discover him. 

But quite contrarily Amphialus, who, before the enemies came, 
was careful, providently diligent, and not sometimes without 
doubting of the issue, now the nearer danger approached (like the 
light of a glow-worm) the less still it seemed : and now his courage 
began to boil in choler, and with such impatience to desire to pour 
out both upon the enemy, that he issued presently into certain 
boats he had of purpose, and carrying with him some choice men, 
went to the fortress he had upon the edge of the lake, which he 
thought would be the first thing that the enemy would attempt, 
because it was a passage, which commanding all that side of the 
.country, and, being lost, would stop victuals, or other supply that 
might be brought into the castle ; and in that fortress having some 
force of horsemen, he issued out with two hundred horse and five 
hundred footmen ; ambushed his footmen in the falling of a hill, 
which was over-shadowed with a wood ; he with his horsemen went 
a quarter of a mile farther ; aside hand of which he might perceive 
the many troops of the enemy who came but to take view where 
best to encamp themselves. 

But as if the sight of the enemy had been a magnet-stone to his 
courage, he could not contain himself, but showing his face to the 
enemy, and his back to his soldiers, used that action as his only 
oration, both of denouncing war to the one, and persuading help 
from the other. Who faithfully following an example of such 
authority, they made the earth to groan under their furious burden, 
and the enemies to begin to be angry with them, whom in particular 
they knew not. Among whom there was a young man, youngest 
brother to Philanax, whose face as yet did not betray his sex with 
so much as show of hair ; of a mind having no limits of hope, not 
knowing why to fear; full of jollity in conversation, and lately 
grown a lover. His name was Agenor, of all that army the most 
beautiful : who having ridden in sportful conversation among the 
foremost, all armed, saving that his beaver was up, to have his 
breath in more freedom, seeing Amphialus come a pretty way 
before his company, neither staying the commandment of the 
captain, nor reckoning whether his face were armed, or no, set 
spurs to his horse, and with youthful bravery casting his staff about 
his head, put it then into his rest, as careful of comely carrying it 
as if the mark had been but a ring, and the lookers-on ladies. But 
Amphialas's lance was already come to the last of his descending 
line, and began to make the full point of death against the head of 
this young gentleman ; when Amphialus perceiving his youth and 
beauty, compassion so rebated the edge of choler that he spared 

32(5 ARCADIA [book hi. 

that fair nakedness, and let his staff fall to Agenor's vampalt*: so 
that both with brave breaking should hurtlessly have performed 
that match, but that the pitiless lance of Amphialus (angry with 
being broken) with an unlucky counterbufF, full of unsparing 
splinters, lighted upon that face, far fitter for the combats of Venus, 
giving not only a sudden, but a foul death, leaving scarcely any 
tokens of his former beauty ; but his hands abandoning the reins, 
and his thighs the saddle, he fell sideward from the horse. Wliich 
sight coming to Leontius, a dear friend of his, who in vain had 
lamentably cried unto him to stay when he saw him begin his 
career ; it was hard to say whether the pity of the one, or revenge 
against the other held as then the sovereignty in his passions. 
But while he directed his eye to his friend, and his hand to his 
enemy, so wrongly consorted a power could not resist the ready 
minded force of Amphialus, who perceiving his ill-directed 
direction against him, so paid him his debt before it was lent, 
that he also fell to the earth, only happy that one place and one 
time did finish both their loves and lives together. 

But by this time there had been a furious meeting of either side : 
whether after the terrible salutation of warlike noise, the shaking 
of hands was with sharp weapons : some lances according to the 
metal they met and skill of the guider, did stain themselves in 
blood ; some flew up in pieces, as if they would threaten heaven 
because they failed on earth. But their office was quickly inherited, 
either by (the prince of weapons) the sword, or by some heavy 
mace, or biting axe ; which hunting still the weakest chase, sought 
ever to light there where smallest resistance might worse prevent 
mischief. The clashing of armour, the crushing of -staves, the 
jostling of bodies, the resounding of blows, was the first part of 
that ill-agreeing music which was beautified with the grisliness of 
wounds, the rising of dust, the hideous falls and groans of the 
dying. The very horses angry in their master's anger, with love 
and obedience, brought forth the effects of hate and resistance, and 
with minds of servitude did as if they affected glory. Some lay 
dead under their dead masters, whom unknightly wounds had 
unjustly punished for a faithful duty. Some lay upon their lords 
by like accident, and in death had the honour to be borne by them, 
whom in life they had borne. Some, having lost their commanding 
burdens, ran scattered about the field, abashed with the madness 
of mankind. The earth itself (wont to be a burial of men) was now, 
as it were, buried with men, so was the face thereof hidden with 
dead bodies, to whom death had come masked in divers manners. 
In one place lay disinherited heads, dispossessed of their natural 
seignories ; in another whole bodies to see to, but that their hearts 

"* i.e. A g;auntlet, or iron glove. 


wont to be bound all over so close, were now with deadly violence 
opened : in others, fouler deaths had uglily displayed their trailing 
guts. There lay arms, whose fingers yet moved, as if they would 
feel for him that made them feel : and legs, which contrary to 
common reason, by being discharged of their burden, were grown 
heavier. But no sword payed so large a tribute of souls to the 
eternal kingdom as that of Amphialus ; who like a tiger, from 
whom a company of wolves did seek to ravish a new gotten prey, 
so he (remembering they came to take away Philoclea) did labour 
to make valour, strength, choler and hatred, to answer the 
proportion of his love which was infinite. 

There died of his hand the old knight Eschylus, who though 
by years might well have been allowed to use rather the exercises 
of wisdom than of courage, yet having a lusty body and a merry 
heart, he ever took the summons of time in jest, or else it had 
so creepingly stolen upon him that he had heard scarcely the 
noise of his feet, and therefore was as fresh in apparel, and as 
forward in enterprises, as a far younger man : but nothing made 
him bolder than a certain prophesy had been told him that he 
should die in the arms of his son, and therefore feared the less 
the arm of an enemy. But now when Amphialus's sword was 
passed through his throat, he thought himself abused, but that 
before he died, his son indeed seeing his father begin to fall, held 
him up in his arms, till a pitiless soldier of the other side, with 
a mace brained him, making father and son become twins in the 
never again dying birth. As for Drialus, Memnon, Nisus and 
Polycrates, the first had his eyes cut out so that he could not 
see to bid the near following death welcome ; the second had met 
with the same prophet that old Eschylus had ; and having found 
many of his speeches true, believed this too, that he should never 
be killed but by his own companions ; and therefore no man was 
more valiant than he against an enemy, no man more suspicious 
of his friends : so as he seemed to sleep in security, when he 
went to a battle, and to enter into a battle, when he began to sleep, 
such guards he would set about his person, yet mistrusting those 
very guards, lest they would murder him. But now Amphialus 
helped to unriddle his doubts ; for he overthrowing him from his 
horse, his own companions coming with a fresh supply, pressed 
him to death. Nisus grasping with Amphialus, was with a short 
dagger slain. And for Polycrates, while he shunned as much as 
he could, keeping only his face for fear of punishment, Amphialus 
with a memorable blow struck off his head ; where, with the 
convulsions of death, setting his spurs to his horse, he gave so 
brave a charge upon the enemy, as it grew a proverb, that 
Polycrates was only valiant after his head was off. But no man 

328 ARCADIA [book iit. 

escaped so well his hands as Phebilus did : for he having long 
loved Philoclea, though for the meanness of his estate he never 
durst reveal it, now knowing Amphialus, setting the edge of a rival 
upon the sword of an enemy, he held strong fight with him. But 
Amphialus had already in the most dangerous places disarmed 
him, and was lifting up his sword to send him away from himself ; 
when he thinking indeed to die, " O Philoclea," said he, " yet this 
joys me that I die for thy sake." The name of Philoclea first 
stayed his sword, and he heard him out, though he abhorred him 
much worse than before, yet could he not vouchsafe him the 
honour of dying for Philoclea, but turned his sword another way, 
doing him no hurt for over much hatred. But what good did 
that to poor Phebilus, if escaping a valiant hand, he was 
slain by a base soldier, who seeing him so disarmed, thrust him 
through ? 

But thus with the well-followed valour of Amphialus were the 
others almost overthrown, when Philanax, whowas the marshal of the 
army, came in with new force renewing the almost decayed courage 
of his soldiers. For crying to them, and asking them whether 
their backs or their arms were better fighters, he himself thrust 
just into the press, and making force and fury wait upon discretion 
and government, he might seem a brave lion, who taught his 
young lionets, how in taking a prey, to join courage with cunning. 
Then fortune, as if she had made chases enough of the one 
side of the bloody tennis-court, went of the other side the 
line, making as many fall down of Amphialus's followers as 
before had done of Philanax, they losing the ground, as fast 
as before they had won it, only leaving them to keep it, who 
had lost themselves in keeping it. Then those that had killed, 
inherited the lot of those that had been killed ; and cruel death 
made them lie quietly together, who most in their lives had 
sought to disquiet each other ; and many of those first over- 
thrown, had the comfort to see their murderers over-run them 
to Charon's ferry. 

Codrus, Ctesiphon, and Milo, lost their lives upon Philanax's 
sword. But nobody's case was more pitied than of a young squire 
of Amphialus, called Ismenus, who never abandoning his master, 
and making his tender age aspire to acts of the strongest manhood, 
in this time that his side was put to the worst, and that Amphialus's 
valour was the only stay of them from delivering themselves over 
to a most shameful flight, he saw his master's horse killed under 
him. Whereupon asking advice of no other thought but of 
faithfulness and courage, he presently alighted from his own horse, 
and with the help of some choice and faithful servants, got his 
master up. But in the multitude that came of either side, some 


to succour, some to save Amphialus, he came under the hand of 
Philanax : and the youth perceiving he was the man that did most 
hurt to his party, desirous even to change his life for glory, struck 
at him as he rode by him, and gave him a hurt upon the leg that 
made Philanax turn towards him ; but seeing him so young, and 
of a most lovely presence, he rather took pity of him, meaning to 
take him prisoner, and then to give him to his brother Agenor 
to be his companion, because they were not much unlike, neither 
in years, nor countenance. But as he looked down upon him with 
that thought, he espied where his brother lay dead, and his friend 
Leontius by him, even almost under the squire's feet. Then 
sorrowing not only his own sorrow, but the past-comfort sorrow 
which he foreknew his mother would take, who with many tears 
and misgiving sighs had suffered him to go with his elder brother 
Philanax, blotted out all figures of pity out of his mind, and putting 
forth his horse, while Ismenus doubled two or three more valiant 
than well-set blows, saying to himself, let other mothers bewail 
an untimely death as well as mine, he thrust him through. And 
the boy fierce, though beautiful, and beautiful though dying, not 
able to keep his falling feet, fell down to the earth, which he bit 
for anger, repining at his fortune, and as long as he could resisting 
death, which might seem unwiUing too, so long as he was in taking 
away his young struggling soul. 

Philanax himself could have wished the blow ungiven, when he 
saw him fall like a fair apple, which some uncourteous body, 
breaking his bough, should throw down before it were ripe. But 
the case of his brother made him forget both, that, and himself : 
so as over-hastily pressing upon the retiring enemies, he was 
(ere he was aware) further engaged than his own soldiers could 
relieve him ; where being overthrown by Amphialus, Amphialus, 
glad of him, kept head against his enemies, while some of his men 
carried away Philanax. 

But Philanax's men, as if with the loss of Philanax they had lost 
the fountain of their valour, had their courage so dried up in fear 
that they began to set honour at their backs, and to use the virtue 
of patience in an untimely time, when into the press comes, as 
hard as his horse, more afraid of the spur than the sword, could 
carry him, a knight in armour as black as darkness could make it, 
followed by none, and adorned by nothing; so far without 
authonty that he was without knowledge. But virtue quickly 
made him known, and admiration bred him such authority that 
though they of whose side he came knew him not, yet they all 
knew It was fit to obey him ; and while he was followed by the 
vahantest, he made way for the vilest. For taking part with he 
besiegers, he made the Amphialians' blood serve for a caparison 

330 ARCADIA [book ni. 

to his horse, and a decking to his armour. His arm no oftener 
gave blows, than the blows gave wounds, than the wounds gave 
deaths, so terrible was his force, and yet was his quickness more 
forcible than his force, and his judgment more quick than his 
quickness. For though his sword went faster than eyesight could 
follow it yet his own judgment went still before it. There died 
of his hand, Sarpedon, Plistonax, Strophilus, and Hippolitus, men 
of great proof in wars, and who had that day undertaken the 
guard of Amphialus. But while they sought to save him, they 
lost the fortresses that nature had placed them in. Then slew he 
Megalus, who was a little before proud to see himself stained 
in the blood of his enemies, but when his own blood came to be 
married to theirs, he then felt that cruelty doth never enjoy a good 
cheap glory. After him sent he Palemon, who had that day vowed, 
with foolish bravery, to be the death of ten ; and nine already he 
had killed, and was careful to perform his, almost performed, 
vow, when the black knight helped him to make up the tenth 

And now the often changing fortune began also to change the 
hue of the battles. For at the first, though it were terrible, yet 
terror was decked so bravely with rich furniture, gilt swords, 
shining armours, pleasant pensils, that the eye with delight had 
scarce leisure to be afraid : but now all universally defiled with 
dust, blood, broken armour, mangled bodies, took away the mask, 
and set forth horror in his own horrible manner. But neither 
could danger be dreadful to Amphialus his undismayable courage, 
nor yet seem ugly to him, whose truly affected mind did still paint 
it over with the beauty of Philoclea: and therefore he, rather 
inflamed than troubled with the increase of dangers, and glad to 
find a worthy subject to exercise his courage, sought out this new 
knight, whom he might easily find : for he, like a wanton rich man 
that throws down his neighbours house to make himself the better 
prospect, so had his sword made him so spacious a room that 
Amphialus had more cause to wonder at the finding, than labour 
for the seeking : which if it stirred hate in him to see how much 
harm he did to the one side, it provoked as much emulation in 
him to perceive how much good he did to the other side. There- 
fore, they approaching one to the other, as in two beautiful folks, 
love naturally stirs a desire of joining, so in their two courages 
hate stirred a desire of trial. Then began there a combat between 
them, worthy to have had more large lists, and more quiet beholders : 
for with the spur of courage, and the bit of respect, each so guided 
himself, that one might well see the desire to overcome made them 
not forget how to overcome : in such time and proportion they 
did employ their blows, that none of Ceres's servants could more 


cunningly place his flail : while the left foot spur set forward his 
own horse, the right set backward the contrary horse, even some- 
times by the advantage of the enemy's leg, while the left hand, 
like him that held the stem, guided the horse's obedient courage. 
All done in such order that it might seem the mind was a right 
prince indeed, who sent wise and diligent lieutenants into each of 
those well-governed parts. But the more they fought, the more 
they desired to fight ; and the more they smarted, the less they 
felt the smart : and now were like to make a quick proof to whom 
fortune and valour would seem most friendly, when, in comes an 
old governor of Amphialus, always a good knight, and careful of 
his charge ; who giving a sore wound to the black knight's thigh, 
while he thought not of him, with another blow slew his horse 
under him. Amphialus cried to him that he dishonoured him : 
"You say well," answered the old knight, "to stand now like a 
private soldier, setting your credit upon particular fighting, while 
you may see Basilius with all his host is getting between you and 
your town." He looked that way, and found that true indeed, that 
the enemy was beginning to encompass him about and stop his 
return : and therefore causing the retreat to be sounded, his 
governor led his men homeward, while he kept himself still 
hindmost, as if he had stood at the gate of a sluice to let the 
stream go, with such proportion as should seem good unto him, 
and with so manful discretion performed it, that (though with loss 
of many of his men) he returned himself safe, and content, that his 
enemies had felt how sharp the sword could bite of Philoclea's 
lover. The other party being sorry for the loss of Philanax, was 
yet sorrier when the black knight could not be found: for he 
having gotten a horse, whom his dying master had bequeathed to 
the world, finding himself sore hurt, and not desirous to be known, 
had in the time of the enemies retiring, retired away also ■ his 
thigh not bleeding blood so fast, as his heart bled revenge. 'But 
Basilius having attempted in vain to bar the safe return of 
Amphialus, encamped himself as strongly as he could, while he, to 
his grief, might hear the joy that was made in town by his own 
subjects, that he had that day sped no better. For Amphialus 
bemg well beloved of that people, when they saw him not 
vanquished, they esteemed him as victorious, his youth setting a 
flourishing show upon his worthiness and his great nobilitv 
ennobling his dangers. 

But the first thing Amphialus did, being returned, was to visit 
Philoclea, and first presuming to cause his dream to be sung unto 
her, which he had seen the night before he fell in love with 
her, makmg a fine boy he had accord the pretty dolefulness 

33^ ARCADIA [book III. 

The song was this. 
Now was our heavenly vault deprived of the light, 
With sun's depart : and now the darkness of the night, 
Did light those beamy stars which greater light did dark ! 
Now each thing that enjoy'd that fiery quick'ning spark 
(Which life is call'd) were mov'd their spirits to repose, 
And wanting use of eyes, their eyes began to close ; 
A silence sweet each where with one consent embrac'd 
(A music sweet to one in careful musing plac'd) 
And mother earth, now clad in mourning weeds, did breathe 
A dull desire to kiss the image of our death : 
When I, disgraced wretch, not wretched then did give 
My senses such relief, as they which quiet live, 
Whose brains boil not in woes, nor breasts with beatings ache. 
With nature's praise are wont in safest home to take. 
Far from my thoughts was aiight, where to their minds aspire 
Who under courtly pomps do hatch a base desire. 
Free all my powers were from those captivating snares. 
Which heav'nly purest gifts defile with muddy cares. 
Nay could my soul itself accuse of such a fault. 
As tender conscience might with furious pangs assault. 
But like the feeble flower, whose stalk cannot sustain 
His weighty top, his top downward doth drooping lean : 
Or as the silly bird in well acquainted nest 
Doth hide his head with cares, but only to rest : 
So I in simple course, and unentangled mind. 
Did suffer drowsy lids mine eyes, then clear, to blind ; 
And laying down mine head, did nature's rule observe. 
They first their youth forgot, then fancies lost their force ; 
Till deadly sleep at length possess'd my living corpse. 
A living corpse I lay : but ah my wakeful mind 
(Which made of heav'nly stuff, no mortal change doth blind) 
Flew up with freer wings of fleshly bondage free ; 
And having plac'd my thoughts, my thoughts thus placed me. 
Methought, nay sure I was, I was in fairest wood. 
Of Samothea land, a land which whilom stood 
An honour to the world, while honour was their end, 
And while their line of years they did in virtue spend. 
But there I was, and there my calmy thoughts I fed 
On nature's sweet repast, as healthful senses led. 
Her gifts my study was, her beauty were my sport. 
My work her works to know, her dwelling my resort. 
Those lamps of heav'nly fire to fixed motion bound, 
The ever turning spheres, the never moving ground ; 
What essence dest'ny hath, if fortune be or no ; 
Whence our immortal souls to mortal earth do flow : 
What life it is, and how that all these lives do gather, 
With outward maker's force, or like an inward father. 


Such thoughts, methought, I thought, and strain'd my single mind, 

Then void of nearer care, the depth of things to find, 

When lo with hugest noise, such noise a tower makes 

When it blown down with wind, a fall of ruin takes. 

Or, such a noise it was, as highest thunders send. 

Or cannons thunder-like, all shot together lend. 

The moon asunder rent, whereout with sudden fall 

(More swift than falcons' stoop to feeding falconers' call) 

There came a chariot fair, by doves and sparrows guided. 

Whose storm-like course stay'd not till hard by me it bided. 

I wretch astonished was, and thought the deathful doom, 

Of heaven, of earth, of hell, of time and place was come. 

But straight there issued forth two ladies, ladies sure 

They seemed to me, on whom did wait a virgin pure. 

Strange were the ladies' weeds, yet more unfit than strange. 

The first with clothes tucked up, as nymphs in woods do range, 

Tucked up even with the knees with bow and arrows pressed : 

Her right arm naked was, discovered was her breast. 

But heavy was her pace, and such a meagre cheer. 

As little hunting mind, God knows, did there appear. 

The other had with art, more than our women know, 

As stuff meant for the sale, set out to glaring show, 

A wanton woman's face, and with curl'd knots had twin'd 

Her hair, which by the help of painters cunning shin'd, 

When I such guests did see come out of such a house, 

The mountains great with child, I thought brought forth a mouse 

But walking forth, the first thus to the second said. 

"Venus come on : " said she " Diana you are obey'd." 

Those names abash'd me much, when those great names I heard: 

Although their fame (me seera'd) from truth had greatly jarr'd. 

As I thus musing stood, Diana call'd to her 

The waiting nymph, a nymph that did excel as far 

All things that erst I saw, as orient pearls exceed 

That which their mother hight, or else their silly seed, 

Indeed a perfect hew, indeed a sweet consent. 

Of all those graces gifts the heavens have ever lent. 

And so she was attir'd, as one that did not prize 

Too much her peerless parts, nor yet could them despise. 

But call'd, she came apace ; apace, wherein did move 

The band of beauty's all, the little world of love. 

And bending humbled eyes (O eyes the sun of sight) 

She waited mistre